


World Wide Web

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, POV Alternating on a Whim, Sexual Content, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is bored and decides to play a little joke on John via mobile. It backfires horribly and now the world’s only consulting detective must use every skill at his command to fix things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Journal

**Author's Note:**

> This is my latest exploration of the possible relationship between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

 

John’s mobile bleeped. Glancing at it he sighed, another text from Sherlock:

Sherlock: [www.bored.comehomenow.SH](http://www.bored.comehomenow.sh/)

John shook his head and texted back: _What do you want? Why are you messaging me web addresses?_

Sherlock merely sent back another web address.

Sherlock: [www.bored.I-have-your-gun.hurry.SH](http://www.bored.i-have-your-gun.hurry.sh/)

John: _WTF Sherlock! Don’t play with my gun! You nearly shot Mrs Hudson last time_.

Sherlock: [www.JohnExaggerates.stillbored.taking-gun-for-walk.bye.SH](http://www.johnexaggerates.stillbored.taking-gun-for-walk.bye.sh/)

John texted back furiously: _If you take my gun from the flat I will LEAVE Baker Street for an entire week!_

A minute later his mobile cheeped again and John saw a picture of his gun back in its safe with the address:

Sherlock: [www.you’remyonlyhope.ObiWan.touchingJohnsDVDs.now.SH](http://www.you'remyonlyhope.obiwan.touchingjohnsdvds.now.sh/)

 _That meant war. Those Star War DVD’s were collector’s editions!_ Sherlock sent a picture of one with the letters SH scratched on the bottom. John’s blood boiled.

John: [www.Sherlock-is-a-dead-man.JHW](http://www.sherlock-is-a-dead-man.jhw/)

Sherlock: [www.can’tkillmefromthere.oops-scratched-collectors-edition-again.SH](http://www.can'tkillmefromthere.oops-scratched-collectors-edition-again.sh/)

John: [www.yourbrotherwillhelpmefindyou.JHW](http://www.yourbrotherwillhelpmefindyou.jhw/)

Sherlock: [www.takingJohnsgunagain.cantstopmenow.SH](http://www.takingjohnsgunagain.cantstopmenow.sh/)

John: [www.Sherlockssockindexinperil.JHW](http://www.sherlockssockindexinperil.jhw/)

Sherlock: [www.inyourbedroomnow.peeking.SH](http://www.inyourbedroomnow.peeking.sh/)

John: [www.willgiveyourskulltothehomeless-dont-test-me.JHW](http://www.willgiveyourskulltothehomelessdon'ttestme.jhw/)

Sherlock: [www.backonsofanothinggoingonhere.reading.SH](http://www.backonsofanothinggoingonhere.reading.sh/)

 _Reading? What could he be reading?_ John paled and texted back: _Sherlock you’d better not be reading what I think you’re reading!_

Sherlock: [www.journalofdoctorjohnhamishwatson.shag-record.impressive.SH](http://www.journalofdoctorjohnhamishwatson.shag-record.impressive.sh/)

John: _Goddammit Sherlock, you are violating my privacy, you shit! Stop immediately! I am coming home NOW and you are getting your gigantic arse KICKED – JH_

Sherlock: [www.compliments-sexual.goodnessJohn.SH](http://www.compliments-sexual.goodnessjohn.sh/)

John paled and raced out of the clinic as fast as he could, hailing a cab with urgency and paying extra to make it back to Baker Street so he could kill his flatmate.

Sherlock: [www.nowunderstandsThreeContinentsWatsonreferences.copying.SH](http://www.nowunderstandsthreecontinentswatsonreferences.copying.sh/)

 _He was dead. Sherlock was so dead. John was going to grab_ first _thing that came to hand and kill him._ The messages kept coming.

Sherlock: [www.JohnIsHung.addtofactchecklist.SH](http://www.johnishung.addtofactchecklist.sh/)

John: _Stop this now_.

Sherlock: [www.JohnPrefersGingers.boring-also-untrue.SH](http://www.johnprefersgingers.boring-also-untrue.sh/)

John: _I am warning you, Sherlock. Stop reading!_

Sherlock: [www.JohnLikesBigBreasts.obvious.SH](http://www.johnlikesbigbreasts.obvious.sh/)

John broke into a cold sweat and demanded that the driver go faster and was soundly rebuked and told to sit back. _Sherlock was reading the old parts of his diary which were embarrassing but soon he’d get to the new parts of his journal and that couldn’t be tolerated._ John had to get to Baker Street and stop him.

Sherlock: [www.section-wetDreams.interesting.SH](http://www.section-wetdreams.interesting.sh/)

John: _I’m begging you, Sherlock. This is not funny. Stop this._

Sherlock: [www.whoisAngelinaJolie.does-she-work-at-the-clinic.SH](http://www.whoisangelinajolie.does-she-work-at-the-clinic.sh/)

John: _Stop reading. Please please please stop reading!_

Sherlock: [www.dragonsexJohn.really.theydontexist.SH](http://www.dragonsexjohn.really.theydontexist.sh/)

John: _Please stop reading. I’m begging again. Seriously Sherlock._

Sherlock: [www.Johndreamshaggedtheuniversitychallengeteam.nerdkink.interesting.SH](http://www.johndreamshaggedtheuniversitychallengeteam.nerdkink.interesting.sh/)

John. _I’m very seriously begging you. If you are my friend you will put my journal down. Please._

Sherlock: [www.sexual-identity-crisis.bisexual.obvious.SH](http://www.sexual-identity-crisis.bisexual.obvious.sh/)

John: _If you don’t stop reading right this second I am leaving for GOOD. I am so serious Sherlock. I swear I will leave Baker Street entirely._

Sherlock: [www.Johnmakesidlethreatstoooften.stillreading.SH](http://www.johnmakesidlethreatstoooften.stillreading.sh/)

The taxi was nearly at Baker Street. John had his hand on the door and already had a fistful of cash ready to toss at the driver. His mobile chimed again.

Sherlock: [www.section-to-discuss-with-Ella.YouStoppedTherapyDidntYou.SH](http://www.section-to-discuss-with-ella.youstoppedtherapydidntyou.sh/)

The cab turned down their street and John’s mobile chimed once again.

Sherlock: [www.PTSD.I-cured-it.yourtherapistisaquack.SH](http://www.ptsd.i-cured-it.yourtherapistisaquack.sh/)

John yanked at the door as soon as the taxi stopped and shoved his key into the door lock.

Sherlock: [www.JohnWhyIsMyNameUnderListing-emotional-trauma.SH](http://www.johnwhyismynameunderlisting-emotional-trauma.sh/)

John stopped halfway up the stairs, his hand shaking. He stared at his mobile, completely devastated. Looking up John hit the power button to shut it off, tucked it into his pocket and went into his flat. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa still in the same pyjamas and robe he’d been wearing for three days and looking at the very private journal John used to help deal with his issues. John’s voice was broken and he felt shattered. “I asked you to stop Sherlock.” Sherlock didn’t look up but his face was pale, his eyes wide and riveted to the pages in front of him. He didn’t stop reading but it didn’t matter anymore. The damage was done. “I begged Sherlock. I fucking _begged_. I warned you, I warned you what I would do. Enjoy the rest of my pain, Sherlock.”

John went upstairs in a state of shock. _He’d only just begun to make progress with all the aftermath of seeing Sherlock kill himself and then allow John to believe he was dead for years. The fragile trust John had in his eccentric friend had only begun to heal._ John felt so exposed and he hated it. He’d told Ella he hadn’t wanted to keep a journal but she’d insisted. _Now look, the worst case scenario had come true and Sherlock was reading all of John’s deepest darkest secrets like he was the Sunday paper._ This was the thing he had feared the most ever since he’d begun tentatively writing again. _Sherlock would know the last secret the doctor had kept and John couldn’t face that. He couldn’t look at Sherlock and know that he knew_.

It took John only ten minutes to pack his scant belongings into his duffle and two medium suitcases that clipped together. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely manage it. _Sherlock could keep the books and DVDs_. From the room, he called a taxi and waited until he could see it parked on the street. His shoulder hurt but John hefted his meagre possessions up and with firm steps, he left. Sherlock was still reading the journal, seeming unable to tear his eyes away. “Goodbye Sherlock,” said John with despair.

“John.” John ignored Sherlock, shutting the door softly and just walked down the stairs, his hip and shoulder aching with every single step.

Mrs Hudson was just coming home. “John! Where are you two off to now?” She asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Mrs Hudson, here’s my key. I’ll send you the rest of my portion of the rent in the mail. Thank you so much for all you’ve done. My taxi is waiting. Goodbye Mrs Hudson.” John was numb and he pressed his key into her hand, not waiting to hear her stunned questions. John shoved his bags into the boot and ordered the driver to just go. As they turned the corner John saw Sherlock race out of 221 B searching for him but it was far too late.

“Where to mate?” the taxi driver glanced back, “Airport?”

“Train station,” said John who said nothing further and just looked out the window. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. John had managed to work a lot of overtime in the last three months so his bank account was temporarily healthy. He had his passport and all of his identification. Deciding to just choose at random when he got there John Watson sat back and prepared to leave London forever.

* *  *

Sherlock had thought it was so funny at first. He’d gotten bored with reading online and thought John would be amused by the game but once again Sherlock had gone too far. The detective had blithely taken John’s journal, certain there could be nothing of import in it, and had teased his best friend with what he’d discovered.

He’d ignored John’s pleading.

He’d ignored John’s threats.

He’d read John’s private journal.

John had left _Baker Street._

 _John_ had _left_ Baker Street.

_John had left Baker Street._

Sherlock stood on the street in his dirty pyjamas and robe, barefoot and still clutching the hand-written journal. Mrs Hudson was saying something but Sherlock couldn’t hear her. He watched as the taxi turned the corner, the angle all wrong for him to catch the cab number or even the plate. _John was gone!_ Sherlock pushed his way back inside and ran up the stairs, not stopping until he got to John’s room.

Everything was gone. The wardrobe stood open and the bed was neatly made. Everything that had been there when John moved in was in its place but not one scrap of John Watson remained. “Sherlock! Sherlock, what happened? John gave me his key! Sherlock? Can you hear me? Sherlock, sit down, Sherlock!” Mrs Hudson’s panicked voice finally cut through the loop Sherlock’s brain was caught in and he discovered he was on his knees in the middle of John’s room, his head bowed low and his face damp.

“John is gone. He’s left and it’s all my fault.” _What use was there in hiding the truth? She could see it plainly enough even if she hadn’t already gotten John’s key._ Sherlock hugged the journal to his chest. It was all he had left of John and because of it, Sherlock had lost his best friend. He wept.

Sherlock found himself seated at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him. Mrs Hudson was speaking to someone. “He hasn’t moved in three hours. I’ve remade the tea I don’t know how many times. I’ve tried calling John but he won’t answer. I don’t know what happened! I only went to get the shopping and when I got back John gave me his key and said goodbye!”

It was Mycroft but Sherlock didn’t blink or in any way show that he knew anyone else was there. _What was the use? John wasn’t one of them so it didn’t matter._ Sherlock closed his eyes and tried not to let the tears flow again. He was a fool a thousand times over. His hands tightened on John’s journal, the words indelibly burned into his brain. John had written it all out in point form like he’d been taking notes on a patient and not himself and the very first item made him wither inside.

Trust issues – _severe but improving_.

Abandonment issues: _severe but improving_.

Night Terrors – _reoccurring, increase in frequency to a minimum four nights per week_. Topics – _Afghanistan, Sherlock committing suicide in front of me_.

Social life – _none (three years, ongoing), unable to tolerate intimate encounters_.

Persistent Physical Manifestations – _insomnia, erectile dysfunction, loss of motor function in left arm, increase in psychosomatic pain of hip, panic attacks increased substantially to up to a maximum of three episodes weekly_.

Progress: _managed to return to therapy. Journaling is supposed to help._

John had included the list of pharmaceutical recommendations made for managing his various problems and Sherlock cursed himself again. _John was ill because of him._

“Sherlock, can you hear me? What happened? Where is John?” Mycroft’s voice was strangely gentle and Sherlock looked up at his brother curiously. Mycroft looked concerned, faintly worried even, “Sherlock. Are you hearing me?”

“Yes, Mycroft,” said Sherlock, his voice dead of inflexion, “I have managed to finally abuse the last of John’s goodwill, and though he warned me to stop, I did not. John is gone. He’s left.”

“What did you do?”

Mycroft’s voice continued to be gentle and it was so strange. Sherlock cocked his head a bit. “I was bored. I went into John’s room and I read his journal. I texted him while I was doing it. He begged me to stop but I paid him no mind. John is gone. He left.”

There was silence except for the soft sounds of Mrs Hudson weeping, “Sherlock…” began Mycroft.

“Stop, John is gone. He left.” Sherlock looked over at both of them. “It’s my fault, all of it. It’s because of me. John is gone. He left.”

Sherlock needed to be alone. He stood and went to his room, ignoring Mycroft once again and Mrs Hudson as well. He shut the door and locked it, sinking to the floor in front of it to bury his head in his arms and wept all over again. _John was gone!_ When Sherlock managed to stop he opened the journal again and forced himself to read on. _He’d already lost John; he had nothing further to lose. He’d read the journal and then he’d go for a walk._ He knew someone he could talk to, he had enough cash and his kit was still beneath the floorboards where he’d hidden it five years ago, the very last time he’d gotten high, the week before he’d met John Watson and hadn't needed drugs anymore. After tonight he wouldn’t need them ever again.

Sunday: _Sherlock is alive. He showed up at The Landmark just as I was proposing to Mary. Needless to say, that didn’t work out. She broke up with me by text half an hour ago and sent my things to Baker Street. She’ll be mailing my mother’s ring back too. I can’t fucking believe this shit!_

Wednesday: _Had another panic attack, this time at work. Lucky I was at lunch. No one noticed I stayed in my office. I can’t go to Baker Street and see Sherlock. Asking for overtime hours._

Sunday: _Forced to take a day off. I don’t want to go home. Sherlock is there and it hurts too much to look at him. He lied to me. He ruined my relationship with Mary. He’s not dead and I mourned him for nearly three years._

Tuesday: _Haven’t slept much. Ella told me to keep writing every day but I can’t manage that much. She gave me sleeping pills but I don’t want to take them. I’m afraid to be too deeply asleep in case something happens._

Wednesday: _There’s a fucking human head in the fridge. I was going to have dinner and opened up the fridge and there it was. Sherlock didn’t even notice me going upstairs and staying there for the rest of the night. The episode was rough, had to get stitches in my palm from my nails digging in. He never asked about them_.

Sherlock had assumed he’d gotten hurt at the clinic and hadn’t bothered to ask. He burned with shame at his thoughtlessness. _Why had he brought the head home? He hadn’t done any experiments with it; he needed the equipment at the morgue_.

Thursday: _The head is gone. Managed to eat today so that’s something. Tremor in hands have subsided, good thing I can’t be a surgeon anyway_.

It went on and on. The entries went from being a few times a week to being daily entries, all of them logging John’s despair and Sherlock had not noticed.

Friday: _Melissa asked me out. She’s nice. Funny too. I said no. She’d want to kiss or something and I just can’t. Even the thought of being with someone else is painful_.

Sherlock hadn’t even tried to tell John he felt anything about his fiancé leaving. He’d barely noticed. He’d been too busy enjoying the notoriety that came with resurrection and vindication of his years of efforts. John had stood by him in one press conference after another and hadn’t said a word about his now ex-girlfriend. He must have really loved her if he couldn’t bear to be with someone else. It made Sherlock feel sick inside to know how he’d hurt his best friend and made him want to retch when he went over his callous treatment of John.

Saturday: _Worst nightmare yet. I could smell his blood this time. It was on my hands and it wouldn’t wash off. I could hear him calling my name as he fell. I can still see his head shattered on the pavement. He’s snoring right now; I can hear him through the walls. He doesn’t snore often, but he’s been working a case for three days. He’s tired. I’ll make a big breakfast I suppose, I’m already up._

Sunday: _We worked a case today. Donovan pulled me aside and asked me what was wrong with me. She said I looked like death warmed over. I told her I hadn’t slept enough and she said, “I wouldn’t sleep either if I had a manipulator like Sherlock Holmes watching my back. Who knows what he’d do to you in your sleep.” I wished she hadn’t said that. I can’t stop thinking of Baskerville. What if he drugs me again? What if he leaves me somewhere again?_

Sherlock bit his fist knowing what the entry would contain three days later.

Wednesday: _He left me in the basement of an old flat complex. We were searching for a man who’d knifed some ladies at a church function. I searched all five stories for him before I decided he’d just left. I was right. He was at Baker Street and was doing experiments on some old clothes he’d found in one of the rooms. I used the last of my money for the taxi ride home and there’s no food left. Maybe Greg will spot me lunch this week_.

Sherlock cringed. _Not only had he abandoned John thoughtlessly but he knew for a fact that John was a proud man, asking for help from Lestrade would have been humiliating_. Sherlock had carelessly contaminated the food by forgetting to close the container holding some decomposing samples from the case he’d been working on. He’d pitched everything out and forgotten to replace it. He remembered telling John to make dinner and the cold silence that had followed. John had gone to bed early and Sherlock had gone out to grab a bite at a local pub and had brought nothing home. He cringed again, filled with a fresh wave of shame. _He was contemptible!_

Thursday: _Bless Mrs Hudson. I came home and she’d gotten the shopping done for me. She’ll add it to the rent. I should be able to pay her back providing I don’t miss any more shifts._

Friday: _Received official reprimand today. If I miss one more shift because of work with Sherlock they’re terminating me, no letter of reference anticipated_.

Saturday: _Sherlock fucking Holmes! You god-damned selfish prick! I lost my job because of you! Now I’ll have to spend the next week hoping to get picked up at another clinic and it’s not looking great_!

Sherlock was going to die of shame. He’d made John accompany him for what he’d assured John was a quick trip just to pick up some evidence, not mentioning the evidence was underground via the tunnels and required nearly seven hours of crawling through filth before they’d found their way to the surface. John hadn’t even been necessary for the task but Sherlock liked his company so he’d made him come. John was late for work by four hours and had come home almost immediately. Sherlock had sent him right back out again to get him some samples from St. Bart’s. John hadn’t come home until three in the morning, sans samples, and smelling of strong drink.

Wednesday: _Mike put in a good word for me at Bart’s. I’m not comfortable working there since The Fall but I don’t have a choice. Rent is due, my bills are late, Sherlock hasn’t deposited any of the case money, and we’re nearly out of groceries again. Start tomorrow_.

Thursday: _Had another panic attack when I got home. Had to walk the pavements where Sherlock fell. I’m going to take the sleeping pills tonight. Maybe I won’t remember the nightmares_.

Friday: _Mycroft texted me. Sherlock went to France on a case. He’ll be back in a week, nice of his brother to remind me how unnecessary I am. Still, I could use the break. I need some space to think_.

Saturday: _Did nothing after work today and I feel loads better. Sherlock’s texted me about forty times. I don’t think he realizes I’m not with him_.

Sunday: _Sherlock clearly doesn’t realize I’m not with him, daft bugger. He’s texted me to meet him eighteen times now. I keep telling him I’m at work. Laughing now_.

Monday: _Does Sherlock think I spend every minute with him? He’s telling me how much he liked dinner out last night and asked if my meal was as good as his. I don’t know, Mrs Hudson gave me leftovers but he’s in Paris. I’m not sure if French food is as good as Mrs Hudson’s leftovers_.

Tuesday: _This time away from Sherlock is doing me a world of good. I’ve slept through the night two nights in a row. For some reason reading all of Sherlock’s texts at the end of the day is making me feel better. He sent me about seventeen today. I guess it’s because he’s thinking about me and that’s nice. Maybe I matter a bit to him, if not to anyone else_.

Wednesday: _Today was a good day. I saved a woman’s life. Her husband thanked me and I got a hug from their kid. Sherlock texted me seventy times and insists I lost his scarf. He still doesn’t realize he’s in France alone and found his scarf under the bed where I apparently put it. How can a person make me so angry and so happy at the same time?_

Thursday: _My sister died today, the booze finally did her in. I can’t think. I have to go to Clara and help her with the funeral. Sherlock is home tomorrow. I’ve told him I won’t be here. He hasn’t answered._

Sherlock hung his head. He remembered coming back from the week away and finding the flat cold and empty. John had been gone for a week and had come back grey with exhaustion and grief. Sherlock had wrongly deduced he was merely hung-over and sent the doctor off to get files from Lestrade. The entries resumed a week later.

Thursday: _Mycroft sent flowers to the grave. That was nice. He signed Sherlock’s name but I know Sherlock didn’t have anything to do with it. He would never send flowers. We buried Harry beside mum and dad. Clara is going to stay, their house was paid for. She’ll have to go back to work but she said she’d take some time off first to grieve. I should do the same but rent needs to be paid_.

Friday: _Sherlock surprised me with take-away. He had it waiting on the table when I got home from work. I don’t think he planned it that way, it just happened but he ordered my favourite dish and that was nice_.

Saturday: _Shittiest day yet. Sherlock called me away from work early. Got shot, he left me at the hospital with a hole in my arm. I had to get Greg to bring me back to Baker Street because Sherlock apparently took my wallet. I found it on the sofa minus my Oyster card. Doesn’t he have one_?

Sherlock covered his mouth. _He’d been chasing a lead. John was being kept overnight, that’s what the floor-nurse had told him._ Instead, Sherlock had come back hours later and found John had left.

Sunday: _Had it out with Sherlock about the bills. He doesn’t seem to care if they get paid or not. I can’t afford to keep covering late charges just because he can’t do ten minutes of online banking_!

Monday: _Got a rather nice surprise call from the bank. Sherlock has added me to his consultant account. He finally deposited all his cheques. I have access to all the earnings from our detective work and orders to pay all our bills out of it. I can’t tell you what a relief that is though I’ll keep paying my own rent_.

Tuesday: _Today was almost a perfect day. Sherlock let me sleep in and then we went for a late breakfast. If you ignore the fact he was following someone for clues then it was a lovely time out. We got the bad guy and no one was hurt. Sherlock got takeaway again and let me watch an entire movie in peace while he worked on his experiments. It felt like old times and I liked that_.

Wednesday: _Today was a good day. Sherlock picked me up from work and we spent the whole evening running around London. It was like old times again. We laughed and it was nice_.

Thursday: _God it was just like old times again. Sherlock chewed Anderson out. The wanker deserved it! I almost popped him but Sherlock stepped in. I’ve missed this_.

Friday: _Sherlock took me to the theatre. We were doing a stakeout but the music was nice and we stayed longer than we needed to so we could hear the end. He stole a programme for me. I’ve got it in my wardrobe. I had a good day. It feels like I have my best friend back finally_.

Saturday: _I can’t wait for this fucking day to be over. I had a panic attack when Sherlock nearly got hit by a bus chasing our perp. I don’t know where they are now. I made it to the bathroom at a coffee shop but I’m pretty sure everyone could hear me judging by the looks I got when I came out. Fucking Sherlock_!

Sunday: _Sherlock Holmes is the most incredible man to ever exist! He solved a case today in three hours! It’s been open for nearly twenty years and he solved it practically instantly. Fuck, this reminds me of why I fell for him in the first place_.

Sherlock’s eyes fixed on the words that were swimming in front of him _why I fell for him in the first_ place and felt ill. _John had been in love with Sherlock who had faked his death in front of him, come back to life, and proceeded to be the most abusive person in existence and John had loved him._ Sherlock couldn’t stop his gorge from rising. He raced to the bathroom and barely made it in time to be ill. _He was a monster._

Sherlock peeled out of his filthy clothes after and climbed into the shower. He scrubbed himself raw from head to toe before getting out. “Mycroft I have to find John.”

“I’ve already begun the search. He was seen arriving at the train station. He used his card to purchase a ticket. It departed two hours ago.” Mycroft showed Sherlock a text from Anthea, “North.” Sherlock shrugged himself into his coat and made for the door but Mycroft caught his arm, “You can fix this, Sherlock, if you put some thought into it.”

Sherlock felt filled with self-loathing and despair but he nodded. He doubted he could fix things but that didn’t stop the irresistible need to follow John. He had to find John, he had to. Mycroft stopped him again, ruefully handing Sherlock his credit card, “Thank you.” said Sherlock and left.

“Hurry Sherlock,” urged Mrs Hudson from the door, “Find John, go.” She’d already flagged down a taxi and Sherlock left as quickly as he could. Anthea was texting him directly. John had purchased an open-ended tour ticket of the cities of Britain. He’d quit his job at Bart’s, no explanation given. Sherlock had to bite his fist again to keep his agonized groans from startling the driver. _He was beyond contemptible! He’d driven John, good, devoted, caring, nurturing John, away from the profession he loved dearly and out of London, the city that meant everything to the soldier._ Sherlock had never hated himself so much. If it weren’t so important to find John then Sherlock would have ended himself already.

“Cardiff,” demanded Sherlock and glowered angrily at the ticket. His train wouldn’t leave for another hour. _John was getting further and further away!_ Sherlock ransacked the brochure display until he found the itinerary for John’s tour packet. It included accommodations but where wasn’t listed. Sherlock called Anthea, “He’s going to Cardiff. Where do they book the passengers?”

“Sending your reservation now, Doctor Watson’s room is adjoining yours. Good luck Mr Holmes.” Sherlock sat back, forced to wait with nothing to do but go over the details in his mind. Almost against his will Sherlock withdrew the journal and began to read.


	2. Contrition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shock of John's departure has sent the detective scurrying after the soldier in desperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no intention of posting TWO chapters in a single day but apparently I have the willpower of.....well I don't have any willpower so thanks to the not so hard arm-twisting of Ravenwolf36 and BennysGirl here you go.....

Sherlock sat on a hard bench near the tracks and tuned everything out, his focus entirely on John’s journal. The leather cover was soft and worn, evidence that years of use had been made of it. Sherlock noted sections could be added and removed and wondered how many times John had inserted new pages and what he did with the old ones. _The soldier must have had this binding for years now._ Sherlock continued where he’d left off.

Monday: _Back to work. Sherlock is off somewhere on a case. At least he told me this time_.

Sherlock had to go to Liverpool. John hated Liverpool because of a summer incident in his youth with some of his cousins so Sherlock had gone alone. He’d missed John every minute and texted him the entire trip. Sherlock never enjoyed being away from John.

Tuesday: _Sherlock is still gone. The flat feels empty_.

The case had become frantic, the local constabulary fumbled many times and it had taken forever without John there to sooth everyone for Sherlock. He hadn’t had time to text the doctor.

Wednesday: _Sherlock came home and now the flat is filled with bird feathers. I don’t know if I’m angry or not_.

Someone had stolen a prize bird from a competition. Sherlock had gone through several bags of feathers before finding his distinctive pinions, therefore proving that the manufacturer’s competitor of the luxury bedding was innocent of wrongdoing.

Thursday: _Bird feathers are gone and I have a new down pillow and duvet. That was a lovely surprise. It barely smells of feathers_.

Sherlock had waived off a cheque for his fee and had bartered for the bedding instead. The pillow had been extra, both duvet and pillow filled with the finest goose-down. They were still at Baker Street. John hadn't taken them.

Friday: _worked a double-shift. Don’t know where Sherlock is. He texted me a question about paint about two hours ago. Nothing since_.

Saturday: _Found Sherlock asleep on the sofa. He was green from head to toe. It didn’t seem to bother him and it washed off when he showered. No explanation_.

It had been a waste of time trying to track a suspect in a series of crimes featuring events at a particular nightclub. Sherlock had to blend in for one of their more ridiculous events, the _Human Rainbow_ where everyone danced with anyone who was the same colour. Despite that Sherlock had gotten hit on by Yellows and Blues all night, hadn’t found his suspect and wished John had been there because he had a fearsome glare that normally kept people away.

Sunday: _Somebody tried to kill Sherlock today. I stopped them. My hands won’t stop shaking. Had an episode when I came home. First one in a while_.

Their suspect had turned tail and done a runner but Sherlock ran faster and caught him up. John had arrived just as the man was attempting to cut Sherlock’s throat and had felled him with a single blow that rendered him unconscious. Lestrade had made Sherlock stay in the Yard to finish his statement so John had just said he was going home and had left Sherlock there.

Monday: _When I’m at work I can’t stop worrying about Sherlock. I’m afraid he’s going to get hurt all the time. Now I know what Mycroft feels like_.

Sherlock closed his eyes and regretted his treatment of his brother as well. Mycroft was as patient with Sherlock as John, never expecting thanks and more often than not, not getting it.

Tuesday: _Sherlock is fucking killing me. He played the violin today for three hours straight. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I stayed in my room the whole time just so I wouldn’t distract him. I didn’t want it to stop_. _There’s such passion in his music, it’s like he doesn’t know where else to be passionate except when he’s working so he expresses it all through his music. I wonder if he’d play for me some night_.

Sherlock had woken with bad dreams of his own; recollections of strange cities where he was being chased by people with knives or guns, when having a soldier by his side would have saved him some cuts and bruises, and possibly a lot of torture, but John hadn’t been there. _Had Sherlock told John that the defensive moves he’d learned from the soldier had saved his life more than once?_ To soothe himself that night Sherlock had played the songs that made him think of John. There had been many.

Wednesday: _Donovan called Sherlock a freak again today. I wish she’d stop doing that. She’s just reinforcing his poor self-image and I don’t like that. They don’t understand how fragile he really is. He’s trying. He’s really trying but when people say things like that to him he stops. If people gave him more of a chance then he’d be able to grow a bit but instead, they call him names. It hurts his feelings and I don’t like that. I’m going to talk to Greg_.

Donovan hadn’t called Sherlock names in ages now and Sherlock found it easier to work with the DI’s team. Had John done what he’d intended and forced her to stop?

Thursday: _Had a shouting match with Anderson over Sherlock today. He told me Sherlock explained how he’d fooled everyone. Sherlock never told me that but he told Anderson. I feel sick. Had an episode at the flat again but luckily Sherlock was at the morgue with Molly and didn’t see. I don’t think he’s noticed yet_.

Sherlock was at a loss. _He’d told John. He had! He did nothing but talk to John for days straight, hadn’t he?_ Sherlock cast back through his mind palace seeking verification and could find the words but no associated memories of John being present! _Had Sherlock confessed to an empty room? What was wrong with him?_ True he hadn’t been in the best state of mind upon his return but surely he would have ensured John was actually there!

_Wouldn’t he?_

Sherlock thought back to the trip to France where he had indeed forgotten he was alone. He talked to John constantly and when he couldn’t see John he sent him a text. He’d behaved similarly minus the texting while he’d been destroying Moriarty’s empire, talking to John had kept him sane though hearing John speak back to him in his head probably made the sanity part of that solution dubious.

Wednesday: _Had an episode at work today. For once it had nothing to do with Sherlock. A child died. I always have a hard time dealing with things like that_. _What’s weird was Sherlock took me out that night to a poetry reading. It’s not really his thing and he didn’t tell me why we needed to be there but the speaker had a lovely voice and I felt better; at least I didn’t have nightmares that night._

Sherlock had seen how upset John was when he came home from work and correctly deduced the reason. The poetry reading had been mentioned to him by a client and since John was a man of words Sherlock had taken him there deliberately to distract him. It had worked.

Thursday: _Sherlock totally ripped this concierge to pieces for being rude to me. I couldn’t believe it. Sherlock insulted the man so badly he had to leave work and then Sherlock still managed to get our meal for free. He threatened to do it again if the man so much as looked crossly at me. Sherlock is amazing. When he does things like this I wonder if there’s hope_.

Sherlock remembered the sneer on that man’s face when he took in John’s clothes. Sherlock had been wearing one of his many well-fitted suits but John had just gotten off from work and was still wearing the sturdy and easily cleaned clothes he normally wore to the clinic. The look on John’s face, that flash of stiff-lipped embarrassment was all it had taken to pique Sherlock’s ire and he’d made the owner buy them dinner after the concierge left work in tears.

Friday: _Bad night. Nightmares won’t stop. It was about the war this time. Had another panic attack. It was pretty harsh. I think I woke Sherlock, he’s downstairs in the kitchen doing something. I want tea but I can’t even walk right now_.

John had woken Sherlock but long before the soldier had himself woken up. Sherlock had gone down to the kitchen and clanged around on purpose until the screams stopped and John was awake once more. He very seldom had more than one bad dream so if the doctor fell asleep again he should have made it till morning nightmare free. Sherlock wished he’d gone with his impulse to bring John tea. _He would in the future, if he ever got a chance_.

Saturday: _We ran around so much today that I slept all through the night no bad dreams. It was nice_.

It had been the doctor’s day off so Sherlock had made extra sure to take John everywhere that day, keeping their activities as physical as possible. He took John out for dinner while ostensibly on a stake-out, the only time John would let Sherlock pay for both of them and then brought the doctor right back to Baker Street to rest.

Sunday: _All I ever do is think about Sherlock. What’s wrong with me? I can’t even tell the bugger how I feel about him and I don’t know if things are getting better or worse. Would he even care? Would it make a difference? He doesn’t like sentiment and Mycroft would never let me live it down if I showed any feelings. I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep hiding it though really the only one who doesn’t know is Sherlock. Molly asked me if I’d said anything yet. I was shocked. I had to leave and ended up locked in the custodial supply closet having another attack_.

Sherlock’s train arrived at long last and he found a quiet seat and continued reading. He checked his mobile but there were no messages. He tried to calm himself but the anxious feeling he’d experienced the second he’d comprehended that John had actually left had not lessened at jot.

Monday: _Sherlock’s been gone all day but it’s been fine. He’s been texting constantly. I’ve grown accustomed to it. Now even when work is crappy, or if I’ve had another episode (not tracking those anymore) he manages to make me laugh even when he’s being a complete tosser. I guess that’s love for you. Sometimes I hate myself for loving him so much. What’s wrong with me_?

Tuesday: _Almost chinned DI Dimmock today for a remark he made about Sherlock. Sherlock isn’t in the same category as other people! He’s a god-damned genius, not some fucking amateur. How fucking DARE he call Sherlock inhuman just because he doesn’t fall to pieces when viewing a serious crime scene! We found the suspect despite Dimmock. Still angry_.

Sherlock kept reading the entire trip. He could not stop himself and each fact he learned went into permanent storage in Sherlock’s mind palace. John facts were central, the most important room in Sherlock’s mind palace and had been for years. _Lessons from John comprised most of the functional morality Sherlock lived by. They were necessary to have on hand at all times, that’s how important John was!_

By the time they reached Cardiff, Sherlock was stiff and sore from remaining in the same position for so long. He tucked the journal into a pocket of his Belstaff and flagged down a taxi to take to the hotel. His heart was pounding so hard he felt faint. Sherlock had no idea how to even begin to fix this but he was already nearly to John. He texted Anthea. “ _Doctor Watson checked in two hours ago, dinner with the group. Hotel systems show he’s watching an action movie in his room_.” Sherlock couldn’t think. He barely remembered checking in but he clutched his electric key hard so hard he nearly broke it as he rode the elevator up. When the door opened Sherlock stood in the empty hotel hallway and was completely at a loss.

His mobile chirped. It was Mycroft. “Talk to him. Don’t dawdle.” _Damn his brother!_ Sherlock straightened his coat and strode down the carpet runner until he made his way to their adjoining rooms. He dithered for only a second about going into his half of the suite before steeling himself and knocking on John’s door. Sherlock heard the sounds from the TV mute suddenly and then the door pulled open. John was standing there in a hotel robe. He had clearly showered after dinner and neglected to dress further. It took John no time at all to go from wondering who was at the door to being completely furious, “Of fucking _course_ you found me. You’re fucking _Sherlock Holmes_. Fuck off, Sherlock.”

John slammed the door shut so Sherlock sighed, used his key card and let himself into his room. He hung up his Belstaff, took the ice-bucket, filled it at the dispenser near the lifts, brought it back to his room, set it in the sink to wait, and used his key to open the door that separated his room from John’s. “Please John, let me apologise.”

John gave him no time. The soldier was up off the sofa in a blink and Sherlock was down on the floor clutching his eye where John had landed a punch squarely, “What the _everlasting_ fuck, Sherlock? Why are you here? Haven’t you done enough? You’ve fucking _gutted_ me, you heartless prick. Can’t you just leave me to bleed out in peace? Is there no escaping you? Must you invade _every_ single moment of my life and give _nothing_ back for it ever? Why do you do this to me?”

Sherlock pushed himself up off the floor slowly. His eye was already swelling and it throbbed but the pain was nothing compared to that sharp tense sensation near his heart that had been there since Sherlock finally realized he’d overstepped horrifically, “Apparently, I must invade,” he said softly. He didn’t get all the way up. Instead, Sherlock knelt there and hung his head, “John. I followed you because you can’t leave me behind like I left you. I know I ask so much. I know I take so much. I don’t think the way other people do, you know I don’t.”

“Why are you here?” John’s voice had never been so cold. He was nearly hissing with barely repressed rage and Sherlock shivered. If John decided violence was the way of it Sherlock would not be able to resist. John’s rages were epic, destructive, and fortunately, extremely rare.

“To apologize and to explain, please John, just let me…please let me try.” Sherlock didn’t try to hide the fact that he was begging and was sorely reminded of how John had begged as well.

“Why should I bother Sherlock?”

“It will eat at you if you do not know. If you choose to continue leaving after I’ve apologized I cannot stop you. Let me apologize, John, let me do at least that.” Sherlock kept his head down, not wanting to manipulate John with the sadness on his face. He knew John was susceptible to such displays and Sherlock deserved no leeway. John would hear his words and allow those to sway him or not. “John, I am sorry.”

There was a long silence but finally, John said, “Why did you do it, Sherlock. How could you do it?”

Sherlock marshalled his thoughts, “John Watson, you are the only friend I’ve ever had and I depend on you to keep me right. Perhaps I should not have teased you with your past but I wanted to know of it. You are the most important person in my world and there are years of mystery about you, things you’ve never spoken of, things I want to know. I read it all.”

“You _what?”_ John sounded even more staggered than ever, “I left Baker Street because of what you did _and you kept reading_?”

“I had to know. I _needed_ to know. John, I’m sorry I hurt you by reading your personal thoughts but I’m _not_ sorry for learning what I learned. You’ve shown me what a poor human being I am, how callous I am with no cause. I could do what I do without hurting people but I don’t and I should. You are my best friend, the one I should consider first, and I don’t. _I will_. I will change. I _can_ learn. _You_ can teach me. I need that John. Only you understand me enough to help me change. Only you care enough about me, the wreck of a man that I am, to even make the attempt. I have caused you great hurt and I think _I_ am the only one who can fix that. I want to fix it. I want to help you. You are not _damaged,_ John, you are _strong!_ You suffer because you have a heart. I know I have not been there for you the same way you’ve been for me and I cannot express my regret about that enough. You occupy a very large portion of my mind palace so for me you are present at all times. _There is never a moment when you aren’t with me_ , that’s how much I need you. You being with me is why I survived those years alone. You being with me was the reason I made it back to London alive. You being _you_ is the reason I died in the first place. _He_ would have killed you and I would have died anyway. John, do you understand?”

“He was going to burn the heart out of you.” said John weakly and Sherlock knew the doctor understood, “Oh my god Sherlock. You can’t be saying what…”

“Yes, John. That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m saying that even James Moriarty knew what I would never tell myself, what I never told you, what I never told anyone but what made me live every single day since the day Mike Stamford introduced us.” John’s face was ashen and shocked so Sherlock repeated himself, “John Watson you keep me right. You know what you are to me.”

“But…” John clearly didn’t know how to react.

“John, I am not like other people. We know I’m not. I don’t feel things the same way other people seem to feel them. I don’t understand things the way other people can, I don’t perceive things the way most people do. I don’t display my emotions in a way that’s obvious, you know full well I don’t but it doesn’t mean I’m not capable of those feelings. I have them. For you. I needed to tell you.”

John sat down on the hotel sofa completely flummoxed. Sherlock looked up tentatively and saw the conflict on John’s face. “I can’t even…” he trailed off and John just sat there staring at Sherlock.

“I’ve spent my whole life in pursuit of pure knowledge, John. I have purposely deleted each and everything that was not factual or logical. I act with deliberation and certainty. The moment we met I knew you were the person I needed to be with and I didn’t hesitate. I asked you to move in with me immediately. I’ve actively discouraged you from dating to the point I harried away anyone close to you. I wanted you all for myself but you weren’t wrong John. I took and I took and I never gave you back even a portion of what I got from you. I swear to you John I will address each and every grievance you have, _I will!_ I will willingly give you whatever you want, I’ll do anything you want to help you overcome all that you have suffered on my behalf, and more if I can manage. If it takes the rest of my life I would do it. I would.” Sherlock’s head was hanging low once again and his voice was a ragged whisper filled with remorse.

“I can’t trust you, Sherlock.” John’s voice was harsh. Sherlock deserved every bit of anger John threw at him. He’d never experienced such remorse, never knew such keen desire to show his true penitence for his deed. His heart was rent to shreds by his own hands and he could only hope that John would allow Sherlock to show him how much he really cared so that they could both maybe achieve something better than the bleakness that would surely destroy them both if they parted ways forever.

For John Sherlock knew he could be a better man, “You can. Please, John. Let me try. Let me show you the whole truth, let me tell you everything you should have known already, things I told myself I’d told you…” he trailed off again, “I do speak to you a lot when you’re not there. I’m _sorry,_ John.”

“I,” John stopped speaking for several minutes. “I need to think about this.”

“I understand John. I will go.” it wasn’t much but John hadn’t hit him again or told him to leave, or left himself so that was all good. Sherlock stood slowly, still not looking up and went back to his room. Using a hand towel from the bathroom Sherlock made an ice-pack and put it on his eye, sitting on his sofa with only the dim light of the bathroom to provide illumination. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks but Sherlock made not a sound, curling himself into a small ball on the strange furnishing and hated himself anew. He fell asleep completely miserable.

Sherlock woke up on the sofa with the damp towel still pressed to his face. He felt cold and clammy so he took himself to the shower. It was three in the morning so after he washed up, a shadow of a beard on his chin, Sherlock went to bed in just his pants. His eyes were swollen though the shower had taken care of a lot of the puffiness. He had a headache too from being so upset for so long. He wanted to see John, to make sure he was alright but restrained himself. Sighing heavily Sherlock lay there entirely sleepless for nearly an hour before a soft tap was heard on the partition door.

 

* *   *

 

John sat in front of the hotel telly. He was perfectly still, staring sightlessly at the moving images on the screen and registering not one of them. He was aching with exhaustion but he couldn’t stop thinking of Sherlock. The movie ended and he just selected another action movie at random for the noise.

 _Sherlock had tracked him down and found him. Mycroft had helped no doubt about that. Sherlock had also read the entire journal but for some reason that didn’t sting as much as finding_ out _that he’d read it to begin with._ John thought of what Sherlock had said; sifting through the shock and emotional upheaval the day had brought as he absorbed everything slowly.

He assessed himself, a habit of long months. John didn’t feel sick any longer. He noted that the raw exposed feeling was gone too. The tremble in his hand was gone and the twang in his hip seemed to have vanished. It was possible that shock was deadening him to the pain his body normally bore but he didn’t think so. It was Sherlock, just as it had been Sherlock five years ago when John had set his cane down. John was still very angry, still very hurt, but at the same time, it wasn’t the same sort of hurt. He was furious with Sherlock for reading the journal, but after what Sherlock had said, John began to wonder if it had actually been for the best.

 _He’d been so afraid of Sherlock reading that journal. Any good that had come from expressing himself on paper had been negated by his constant urge to hide his secrets better, to close himself off more, to isolate himself from the world._ Sherlock hadn’t done that. John had done it to himself. _Sherlock hadn’t stopped John from going out with friends, or even from asking someone out on a date._ John had decided not to do those things but only because of his conflicted feelings for Sherlock. Then on top of everything the stunning news that Sherlock had _feelings_ for John! Not openly declared feelings but John could understand why Sherlock wouldn’t want to say it outright, not then. He’d essentially told John he’d killed himself to save the soldier’s life and that changed so much for the doctor that John actually felt dizzy. _Sherlock hadn’t abandoned John, he’d sacrificed himself!_ Still, it was clear that Sherlock understood that their friendship had broken and it was up to John to decide if it could be healed or not, and if so, what the nature of the relationship that followed would be like.

John took a bath. He needed to think and he always thought better in the tub. That was one of the best parts of living at 221 B Baker Street, the tub. The old Victorian building had come equipped with a monstrosity of a bathtub, a huge two person claw-foot that dominated their bathroom. Even after the building had been cautiously upgraded to meet the needs of the modern era the tub had remained, far too large to be removed through the narrow doors. The room must have been built around it; you’d have to take out a side wall to get it out now. The shower functioned on it and John used that when he was having a quick wash but any opportunity he got John would climb into that massive tub after filling it with steaming hot water and had a soak. The hotel tub was nowhere near as grand but it did in a pinch.

Today had been ghastly. After leaving Baker Street in a horrified daze John had gone to the train station and simply stood in front of the brochure rack without a clue what to do. He didn’t know where he wanted to go. He just wanted to get away. The tour package had caught his eye simply because it took a week and included accommodation. That would simplify John’s life because he had no intention of turning his mobile back on to look for a hotel. Sherlock had either texted a million times already and John couldn’t deal with seeing them or he would not have texted at all and John couldn’t handle that either. He’d been numb, not taking in the names of the others in the group, dinner had been pleasant enough if a bit of a strain and John had been grateful to get away for the night, wondering if going on a group vacation with strangers was a really good idea.

When the knock had happened on his door John had been confused. He’d washed up from the day the second he’d gotten back and was trying to pay attention to the latest movie offering the room had on its show listings but he was too depressed to pay it any mind. Wondering if one of the other vacationers needed him for something he’d answered immediately. The rage he’d suppressed all day flared into life and John shut the door on Sherlock’s face before he killed the man he loved with his bare hands. John had staggered back to the couch furious and nearly panting. Less than ten minutes later Sherlock was walking through the partition door and in retrospect, John realized Sherlock had braced himself to be struck, hadn’t attempted to defend himself, and had placed himself in a position that had physically reduced him and made him vulnerable to John, should John decide to strike again.

He hadn’t. He’d still been angry with Sherlock. He was still angry with Sherlock but the bitter despair was gone. John sank into the hot water and let his body relax at long last. Sherlock had come right after John, travelled for hours to apologise in person, and John knew Sherlock was sincere. John realized that despite the shock and humiliations he’d suffered today Sherlock had said he needed to be with John and John _knew_ he needed to be with Sherlock as well. _Could he do it? Could he somehow deal with what had happened and move forward with Sherlock? What would that entail? What would the cost to John be? Was Sherlock even capable of changing the way he promised? Did John want him to? Was that right?_

The tub had long since cooled, been drained, refilled and cooled again twice when John heard the shower in Sherlock’s room begin. He got out, drained the water for the last time and dried himself off ignoring the rather severe pruning of his fingers and toes. Pulling his pants on John just shrugged himself into his robe and sat on the sofa to continue thinking. _Was it really so bad that Sherlock finally knew the last of him? No one else in the world seemed to want to know John, as well as Sherlock, did. If Sherlock did actually care about John how would that manifest now? Would they have a physical relationship? Was that where this chase was leading? Did John want that?_

John knew his heart belonged to Sherlock and that it had been lost to the detective years ago. Apart from three or four case related instances, John had never witnessed Sherlock demonstrate any need for physical intimacy, and in every single case, he’d stopped the second he’d gotten the information he’d needed, switching off like he was really the machine so many had accused him of being. John didn’t think Sherlock was a machine. Sherlock definitely felt things but who he showed those feeling to was a short list. Sherlock was beautiful, that was a certainty but John’s love for his friend had almost nothing to do with his body and everything to do with his mind.

 _How would that work? Would they have a platonic relationship? Forgo sex entirely? Would John be able to do that?_ He liked sex a lot, he had been a very sexual person right up until Sherlock had committed suicide and then John’s body had shut right off and hadn’t turned back on since, not even after Sherlock came back to life. Mary had known but had been willing to work on it, she was nurturing and kind yet she had left without a backward glance once Sherlock had turned up again. John supposed the issue of sex would be in Sherlock’s court. If he wanted it then they’d have to figure out how to fix John a little more. John wasn’t sure if he could have sex with a man, he’d never felt drawn to men before but yet again Sherlock was in a class of his own. John realized he’d already made his mind up about what to do next so with a sigh he stood, straightened his robe and went to knock on the door, “You still awake?”

Sherlock was also just in his robe and he looked ill. His face was ashen, his bruised eye purple and swollen, his other eye looking only slightly better and John knew Sherlock had been crying. It made his heart crack a bit when his eyes took in the very blatant evidence that Sherlock indeed had feelings and that they were entirely exposed right then. “John? Are you alright?” Sherlock looked horrid but his voice was filled with concern, and a thread of remorse was still laced into every syllable.

“Honestly I don’t know. Can I come in?”

“Of course John, please.” Sherlock seemed to flutter around for a moment, not sure what to do to offer hospitality. They were already practically standing on the hotel sofa so John sat down and Sherlock sat next to him. The silence was awkward. Finally, Sherlock began, “John I know I’ve made a mess of things…”

“That’s what you do. You make a mess of things,” said John, interrupting Sherlock’s apology deliberately, “You take things apart and figure them out, put everything back together and solve it. I think that’s what you did this time too. It didn’t feel very good while it happened but I have a feeling that maybe this wasn’t the end of everything. I think there’s a way to fix this.”

Sherlock sat straighter and John was startled to see so much hope on the man’s face, “Really John?”

John looked over at Sherlock who was now examining John with intense concentration, “Sherlock, how do you feel about me?”

Sherlock blinked and then his cheeks pinked a bit, “You are my best friend John. I care about you more than anyone in the world. If I could manage it we’d be friends forever.”

“Is that all you want, just to be friends?” John couldn’t let there be grey areas, not for what he had in mind.

“No John, that’s not all I want but it’s what I’d be willing to have if that’s what you offered.” John needed to think on that some more but he’d be lying to himself if he tried to say he didn’t want as much as Sherlock was willing to give as well. He was so tired now but the worst of the day felt behind him. Suddenly Sherlock took John’s hand and seemed to be seriously searching for words, “I am not a normal man John Watson so perhaps it would be best to just confess that I have no idea what I want, or how to get it even if I knew what it was. I am entirely out of step with the rest of humanity when it comes to matters of the heart. If I were to let go every rational argument I am capable of making and go simply with how I feel I would tell you I am exhausted, heart-sore, and I would very much like to just crawl into bed with you so that I can see you’re alright and sleep for a week.”

John looked up at Sherlock and saw that Sherlock looked exactly like John felt, weary, worn down, and just done. “I’ve never slept with a man before.”

“Well, I’ll just be sleeping which will be a first for me as is everything to do with relationships. Outside of my immediate family, you are the person I am most intimate with.” That made John feel sad for some reason because he knew Sherlock wasn’t lying or exaggerating, Sherlock’s overwhelming personality had never allowed him to grow close to anyone. Most people asked John how he managed. He didn’t know. He just did. Sherlock was a handful but he just didn’t aggravate John the same way he did other people. He and John weren’t even that physical, stitching each other up or helping change hard-to-reach plasters didn’t count. Still, despite the upset of the day, Sherlock’s hand was firm and warm and John found he liked it.

“Is that what we’re doing, a relationship?” John was so tired but there were questions that needed to be asked even if he had been up for nearly twenty-four hours straight.

“I hope so John, if that’s what you want. You have thought for many years that I do not care when I actually do. What type of beginning we have is entirely your decision to make.” Sherlock was still leaving it all up to John. He wasn’t hesitating with his answers either and for some reason that made John relax enough to yawn hard, covering his mouth with both hands and triggering a yawn in Sherlock. Both men looked a bit embarrassed after but it served to break some of the tension.

“I’ll decide tomorrow. I need to sleep.” John could easily walk through the door and sleep in the perfectly available bed next door but he didn’t. Instead, he deliberately walked over, dropped his robe, and crawled into the side of Sherlock’s bed that he preferred and closed his eyes. Sherlock was climbing in only a few seconds later after shutting off all the lights, “Goodnight John.” A soft snore was all that was to be heard but it was soon joined by a second.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....you're not getting two chapters tomorrow....


	3. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock had made an apology and now it's up to John to decide if he'll accept it or not.

 

Like anyone who’s never shared a sleeping arrangement with another person before Sherlock was a bed-hog and John woke late the next morning to find himself clinging to the edge of the mattress, his head on only a third of his pillow while Sherlock was spread greedily over the rest of it, arms and legs flung everywhere, his head on John’s pillow and his shoulder jammed into John’s back. The detective was still snoring softly so with a smile on his face John let himself wake a bit more before allowing gravity to finish bringing his legs to the floor and he stood up stiffly. His headache was gone and apart from the strange feeling in his legs from hanging over the mattress for hours he felt alright if in somewhat desperate need of the facilities. Sherlock woke the second John’s back stopped touching his shoulder, “S’matter?” he asked blearily looking around, his hair in wild corkscrews that poked in every direction. John had never seen Sherlock’s bed-head before, it was almost feral.

“Got to use the loo.” John shuffled off and went to his room, all his toiletries were in his bathroom and he really needed to shave. Deliberately John kept himself from thinking of the day previous, and just tried to enjoy the simple pleasures of a hot shower and the routine of getting himself ready for the day. John had missed the day-tour but he hadn’t signed up for it in advance. He could either meet the group for dinner again or merely re-board the train at departure, or maybe even just give the vacation up and go back to London with Sherlock. He had no idea what to do.

By the time John was ready Sherlock was up and dressed in the clothes he arrived in, hair back to its carefully tamed mess but his incoming beard a dark shadow on his chin, “I didn’t pack anything.” he admitted. They stood there and looked at one another. Sherlock had run out of Baker Street with nothing more than his wallet, John’s journal, and Mycroft’s credit card. He didn’t even have his scarf. For some reason it made John feel a bit warmer inside.

“Where do we go from here?” asked John. They were still on the dividing line of their lives, shared sleep or not. Sherlock looked down for a moment before answering, “You were on a journey. Let me join you. I can purchase clothing here in Cardiff; we can travel together, if you want that is. If you prefer to go alone I understand. I will return to London and wait for you.” John could clearly hear the word “forever” tacked on to the end of the sentence. Sherlock really was letting John make all the choices, he wasn’t trying to trick or manipulate him.

“Let’s eat.” decided John. He needed food because he felt that whatever decision he made would be the biggest decision of his life. He barely remembered dinner from the night before and suddenly he was ravenous. They went to the hotel restaurant and managed to convince them to bring breakfast for two despite the fact that lunch service had begun. Sherlock didn’t argue and ate his food in silence, allowing John time to make up his mind. By the time they were sipping their coffee John had thought enough, “We’ll travel together. It will give us time to make some decisions about our lives without everyone we know popping in and adding their opinions. We can continue on our own if you want or follow the group, I don’t care either way.”

It didn’t take Sherlock long to weigh the factors, “If you don’t mind waiting for me to go get some things we can continue on our own. Group activities are probably a goal we can work toward but right now I think it’s fair to say my social skill set is inadequate.” Sherlock paused, “Have you decided John? About us?”

John looked at Sherlock and nodded thoughtfully. The only real decision had been whether to stay or go and since John was staying there was only one direction to move in. Sherlock was sitting nervously, his long fingers plucking at his napkin as he darted glances at John. John adjusted how he was sitting so he could look at Sherlock easier, his hand reaching out to still the restless movements of Sherlock’s fingers, “I think it’s fair to say neither of us wants to be with anyone else so I’m just going to cut to the chase. If you’re serious about doing _anything at all_ to fix things between us I’m just going to speak plainly about what I want. I want more than our old friendship back, I want a real relationship, an actual feeling and touching relationship where I feel safe and loved and feel that I can love safely in return, and where we’re honest with one another. Can you do that?”

Sherlock sat there with his eyes wide. The sounds of the restaurant were deafening suddenly but John didn’t miss hearing Sherlock’s heartfelt and earnest, “Yes.”

“Okay good. Me too, so that’s sorted.” John noticed how Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled softly, like he’s been sure he’d be sent on his way, rejected and alone. John continued, “Now, since we’re agreed to do a feeling and touching thing and in the spirit of truthfulness let me just start by telling you I have no idea if I can have sex with a man, or anybody actually, so that’s going to be a bit of a challenge. I just thought I should put that out there.” John looked at Sherlock and waited for him to reply. Sherlock had read the journal; that fact couldn’t be a surprise to him.

John didn’t have to wait long, “I’ve never wanted to have sex with anyone, not even myself. I’m not sure if I can even manage it. I’m sorry John; it’s never been a relevant detail to share with someone. My transport is exactly that, transport.” Sherlock’s body experienced spontaneous erections that wilted away untouched but he had never felt desire for more. He had never been curious to experience anything sexual though he was well acquainted with the technicalities. Sherlock had done his research thoroughly but impersonally. Sherlock looked at John for a long minute and said, “You will never be able to change _who_ I am John but it is my firm belief that you can change _how_ I am. That is the crux of the problem as I see it. Consider me a work in progress, _your_ work in progress.”

“ _My_ work?” said John with a small smile. He liked how Sherlock had drawn an unsubtle parallel between himself and the career he was obsessed with. If Sherlock was serious it was a very enticing offer for someone like John who was a born care-giver. Sherlock liked attention and John liked to give it. Sherlock had all sorts of harmful habits that he’d convinced himself were necessary for The Work but John didn’t think so, things like going hungry, or depriving himself of sleep. Would he flourish under John’s care? Suddenly John had a glimmer of the scope of their potential and it was exhilarating. They might really be made for each other.

“Yes John, _yours_ , you know full well I don’t listen to anyone but from now on I shall listen to you very, very carefully.” Sherlock smiled down at John and looked a bit anxious for a moment, “Essentially I require an entire systems reset. My functional parameters require upgrading. If this is truly a new beginning then I would like to do it right and I would like to count on your guidance to teach me the correct way to be in our relationship. You know what you want and you know what I am like. I am physically capable of doing anything you’d like, and if you’re interested in working on that eventually then I am too, whenever you feel ready to.”

John was unsurprised at how Sherlock viewed himself. Somehow that took the pressure off even more and John relaxed back into his seat. If sex wasn’t going to be a pressing issue then they could work on the areas that seriously needed attention, like keeping John from dying of emotional starvation, so John began to consider his personal needs, “Let’s get out of here and get some things for you to travel with. We can talk as we go.” Sherlock paid the tab and followed John out to the street. John finally used his mobile, first replying to Mrs. Hudson’s many messages and assuring her that Sherlock had indeed found him and that they would be away together for a week. He could practically hear her cooing happily all the way from London though she only sent back a winky face. “Okay, public displays of affection, what do you know about them?”

Sherlock blinked and then answered, “There are several different methods for displaying couple-hood, hand-holding being recognizably demonstrative regardless of the gender combination of the couple in question. Also periodic displays including modest embraces like hugs or kissing of varying degrees is considered socially acceptable if kept brief. Remaining within each other’s personal space even without physical connection allows the casual observer to understand that there is a pairing. There are several occasions when it is permissible or even advisable to increase the possessive display to include arms about waists or shoulders to discourage possible rivals, or to indicate feelings of affection or tenderness.”

John was laughing softly by the time Sherlock got to the end of his impromptu report, “Are you interested in doing any of those things?”

“Yes John, very much, you are a very affectionate person and I have long wished to receive those affections. I have found that I very much dislike attention being paid to you by others unless it is clear they are not a threat. I am assuming that is jealousy since generally my first reaction when experiencing that feeling is to drive away the person causing it. If I were able to demonstrate a degree of physical connection with you I believe that would mitigate those impulses.” Sherlock looked down at John expectantly.

“So you want to hold hands instead of being rude to everyone who’s nice to me.” It was revelatory. John looked up at Sherlock whose face was filled with earnestness. Amazing! This was why he was so awful to people? Sherlock had actually been a jealous git all this time and all John had to do to stop it from happening was show Sherlock some public affection?

“Yes John.” They stood there in the street for a second just looking at each other before John took a deep breath, reached out, and took Sherlock’s hand. The detective instantly laced their fingers together. “Thank you John.”

“How does that feel?” Sherlock’s brow knitted together and he was clearly analyzing everything. John repressed a small smile because Sherlock looked very, very serious and almost childlike with his innocence.

“Odd. I’m not sure if I’m doing it correctly.” They looked down at their linked hands. John’s seemed so small compared to the detective’s. Sherlock’s fingers were surprisingly warm and gentle though he held John’s hand firmly, “Perhaps if we walk a bit. We can window shop until we find someplace appropriate for me.”

They began to walk, adjusting how they gripped one another until their arms were close together and their hands comfortably tight. They found they were already quite used to remaining within each other’s personal space which earned a shared rueful grin. It was easy to thread their way through the street-traffic until they came to a men’s clothing store Sherlock deemed acceptable. “Mycroft gave me his credit card.”

“That was nice, saved you the trouble of stealing it the way you normally do.” Sherlock laughed a bit before pinning the store clerk with a demanding glare. John bit back a chuckle as Sherlock ruthlessly chivvied the entire staff into catering to them, forcing John to accept two new jumpers and some new trousers since Mycroft was paying for it. Sherlock chose all casual clothes for himself, now dressed in dark gray slacks; a simple shirt dyed a deep rich red, and a plain brown jacket. John was surprised to see how relaxed the man was without a suit on. “You look very handsome Sherlock.”

John didn’t expect Sherlock’s face to blush heavily, the detective quickly turning away in surprise but still muttering, “Thank you John.” over his shoulder. John supposed very few people gave the man sincere compliments, but John had meant it. Sherlock looked very handsome in his new clothes so John had told him.

John gave Sherlock a moment to compose himself while he paid for their purchases. While everything was being neatly bagged up John took Sherlock aside and said, “This is part of it Sherlock. I say nice things about you because I think you should know them, and if I’m lucky, you’ll do the same for me. It makes us both feel good to know we’re appealing to the other.”

Sherlock looked conflicted for a moment then said, “I hate your jumpers. They’re hideous. I love you _in_ jumpers though; they make me want to hug you. Would you get rid of your old awful jumpers and wear the ones I find for you?”

John laughed outright but nodded. All of his jumpers came from discount bins, usually carelessly purchased simply as a replacement for another that had suffered a terrible fate, usually at Sherlock’s hands. “Are you telling me you’d consider hugging me if I wore a better class of jumper?”

“No I’d hug you regardless of what you wore if you’d let me but that doesn’t change the fact that your current jumpers are very, very ugly.” Sherlock was so serious and John had to laugh again. Right there in the shop John stripped off the jumper he was wearing and pulled on a soft blue jumper Sherlock had found over his shirt. It fit beautifully and was warm and snug. The clerk removed John’s old jumper like it was made of toxic waste, escorting it firmly to the bins in the alley without delay.

“We’ll get rid of the rest at the hotel, come on Sherlock, grab our things.” Sherlock’s smile went a bit crooked with happiness when John said ‘our things’ and he managed to gather all the assorted bags up with one hand so he was still able to hold John’s with the other, “We’ll drop this off and go out again.” he decided and that’s what they did.

The rest of the afternoon was almost surreal. Less than twenty-four hours ago John’s life had spiraled out of control and he had felt like he was free-falling into a black abyss. Now here he was walking hand-in-hand down the street with Sherlock Holmes and shopping for new clothes. It was like he’d woken up in an alternate universe with a...a...hmm, “What do I call you?” wondered John suddenly.

“ _Sherlock_ has been working well so far.” said the taller man but Sherlock smiled down, “There are several terms that could be used but their applicability is questionable. We could introduce each other as _partners_ but it sounds like a business arrangement, we can make no claim at all of being _lovers_ nor are we legally bound so _spouse_ is irrelevant leaving us with terms like _boyfriend_. I suppose I am your boyfriend.”

“Well come on _boyfriend_ , I’m hungry now. You know they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” It was silly and juvenile but John liked it and Sherlock clearly didn’t mind the appellation.

“Technically that’s not physically possible without doing some serious damage but theoretically I understand. You wish me to woo you with food because you like to eat and it would be a clear manifestation of my desire to take care of you, which I do.” Sherlock was looking down at John expectantly.

John laughed, “Yes, that and I’m actually hungry. Woo away.” John wondered momentarily at the ease with which they had moved onward, simply walking away from the devastation of the day previous and assuming their new roles like they’d been born for it. Maybe they had been. John wondered how much suffering they could have avoided if they’d just been honest with one another right from the beginning. There was no point wasting time so John took Sherlock’s hand once again, “Let’s go love.”

Sherlock’s smile was brilliant, “Am I?” he was still standing there looking ridiculously pleased. They still hadn’t outright said it yet but both men knew very well how they felt about each other.

John looked up, “Yeah. You are. Let’s go.”

Sherlock was thoughtful as they walked their purchases back to the hotel, “Are pet names part of this?”

“They can be if you want. I like them.”

“What do you find acceptable?”

“I don’t know. It’s different depending on your partner. I’ve only dated women and most of them like terms like sweetheart, or pet, or darling, those sorts of names. What do you like?”

“Never anything infantile, I don’t want to be your baby, or babe, or anything even remotely like that. I suppose we’ll have to see what feels right.”

They dropped all their acquisitions off and while John packed everything into a new suitcase they’d also purchased Sherlock searched online for a suitable restaurant to take John to. He stopped suddenly and dropped his mobile on the bed and went to stand the sofa where John was folding away their new things. John stopped and looked up with a small puzzled smile. Sherlock looked down at the sandy haired man in front of him and bent down to hug John carefully. John smiled back up at Sherlock when he was released, “John I know you are giving me the most incredible chance, one I most certainly do not deserve. Once again you have been far nobler than anyone has a right to be and I just want you to know I understand how precarious my position is. I want to tell you one more time how very sorry I am for all the hurt I have done you and swear once again that I will do anything it takes to make up for it.”

John was very moved by Sherlock’s words and very heartened as well. “It won’t always be easy Sherlock. We have a lot of bad habits between us and it’s going to be difficult to break them. We have to discuss everything that bothers us and that means both of us, not just me. You’ve read my journal and now you have an unfair advantage in that you know absolutely everything I’ve ever worried about.”

“Ask me anything John. I will answer freely.” Now that John had license to plumb Sherlock’s mind he hadn’t a clue what to ask. He laughed and shook his head but Sherlock smiled, “It’s an open-ended offer. Whenever you have a question, simply ask. I will answer with no prevarication. It’s only fair that you learn all the hidden parts of me and there is no one in the world I would trust to hear my secrets than you. It is the smallest price to pay to gain even a fraction of your forgiveness for my egregious behavior.”

“Right, I will then. You can go clean up Sherlock. We’ll head out as soon as you’re ready.”

* *  *

John wasn’t a pretentious man but he deserved to be wined and dined properly so Sherlock made sure to search around carefully before finding someplace the doctor would find acceptable for their first semi-official sojourn into the world as a couple though technically they’d been one all day but surely shopping for new pants, and trying to find a chemist that sold Sherlock’s brand of shaving cream didn’t count? Sherlock sat on the edge of the tub after locking himself in the bathroom and breathed deeply for several minutes. His head was spinning with all the changes that had happened today and he was petrified of making a mistake. John was already packed, if he wanted to leave Sherlock it would be no trouble for John to just march himself away, never to be seen again. Sherlock had to make things perfect, as perfect as possible for John.

 _John had been willing to leave entirely_! Sherlock could never forget that. John was free to leave whenever he wanted; each minute he spent with the doctor was a privilege, one he had squandered for far too long. Sherlock breathed deeply, he would not make the same mistake twice. Determined now, he got ready for their evening out. While he showered and shaved Sherlock went over everything he knew about dating, ferreting out every bit of information he could from the various nooks and crannies of his mind palace. The rituals themselves were standard but how you applied them to each person was very different.

Sherlock quickly considered what he knew about John, which was a great deal. Dinner, dessert if he was interested, alcohol of some kind was called for, possibly wine. Technically they were on vacation so some kind of entertainment would be required. Sherlock had no idea what would be available at the last second in Cardiff. If they were in London there would be a thousand places Sherlock could bring John. He spent a few more minutes online searching and came up with an acceptable short list. With a sigh he straightened his new clothes and left the bathroom.

John was sitting comfortably, clearly having changed into his new clothes as well and his eyes seemed to light up when Sherlock finally made his appearance. Sherlock was astounded in the change in John! He had looked so terrible yesterday, so small and gray but today John was vigorous and almost shining. Sherlock couldn’t help himself and he smiled, “You look lovely John.” He did. Sherlock had always enjoyed the simple way John presented himself, he was never forward or obvious, cleverly fooling the world into thinking he was mostly harmless when he was most certainly not.

John laughed, “Well I’ve never been called lovely before but thank you Sherlock.” John looked up at Sherlock and made a bit of a face, “I’m sorry I blacked your eye though. You’ll have it the entire trip.”

Sherlock had barely noticed his swollen eye but it had purpled magnificently, “You were remarkably restrained John. As angry as I made you further violence would not have been unexpected.”

“You wouldn’t have defended yourself.” said John bluntly, looking very grim.

“No, I would not raise a hand against you, not to save myself. I have hurt you too many other ways to ever consider hurting you any further.” It was the simple truth. John didn’t realize how serious Sherlock was about changing himself. He would always be curious, always be a seeker of greater knowledge, a pursuer of mystery, but for _John_ Sherlock could also be a devoted companion and maybe someday even John’s lover. These were things Sherlock never thought to have and had no idea how much he wanted until John had packed his well-traveled bags and taken the life out of 221 B Baker Street. Sherlock never wanted to hear John’s voice sound like that ever again, he never wanted to feel that desolate emptiness ever again. No, to keep John Sherlock was very willing to adjust each and every part of himself until the soldier was so happy he would never want to leave ever again.

John looked at Sherlock for a long minute and he looked angry. Sherlock wondered what he had done wrong and began to feel uneasy. John took a deep sharp breath and said, “It will never happen again. You’ve been hurt plenty as well Sherlock. Lots of people have had a part, and I suspect it’s been that way with you since you were a child. Not any more Sherlock. You’ll never have to fear that from me, not ever. I would never willingly hurt you. I swear it.” Sherlock was rocked back on his heels with the ferocity of John’s oath. The small man was nearly bristling with wroth, “Don’t think I’ve missed Anderson’s little tricks, or Donovan’s either. I still have a score to settle with Sebastian Wilkes too but I’m a patient man.”

John remembered Sebastian Wilkes? That had been years ago! Sherlock didn’t know why he was smiling but he was. “John may I hug you?”

“Yeah I think that would be alright.” John’s anger seemed to tuck itself away and the small man was smiling up at Sherlock, his eyes sweet and gentle once more, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Sherlock swooped in and wrapped his arms around John. He was so sturdy and warm that Sherlock nearly hummed with pleasure. It felt nice to squeeze John tightly and when John’s arms closed around Sherlock ribs for a return hug he could feel his entire body trying to wrap around every bit of John he could manage. He didn’t want to let go. John could leave whenever he wanted but right then the soldier was caged right inside Sherlock’s arms willingly and Sherlock felt honored to be allowed to do so. He knew it was a small thing compared the lengths he’d need to go to make things right with John but it was a beginning. Reluctantly he let go and stepped back, “May I escort you to dinner John?”

“That would be lovely Sherlock, let’s go. I’m starving.” They took a taxi the restaurant where Sherlock had managed to charm a last minute reservation for them. The table was small but set in a quiet corner and Sherlock enjoyed the look on John’s face when he looked the menu over, “You do prefer more exotic flavors.”

“That I do, this is fantastic. I have no idea which to choose.” the restaurant featured richly spiced food from the far east, John’s palate much shaped by his travels, but rarely indulged outside their standard take-away fare. Sherlock was fairly sure he’d never tried this cuisine before but it was familiar enough that John actually looked excited as he poured over the menu.

“Anything but dessert, I have another place in mind for that.” John looked put out only for a moment as his eyes lingered on the dessert section so Sherlock added, “It will be worthwhile, I promise.”

“Right but if it’s not we’re coming back to Cardiff someday specifically so I can have dessert here.” Sherlock’s heart lifted as John casually planned future trips for the two of them. That was a good sign, a very good sign indeed.

“Whatever you’d like John.” If John wanted to rattle around England forever on a train then Sherlock was more than happy to go along with him. That was easy! There wasn’t a corner to travel on that wasn’t steeped in history, or filled with dark stories of murder and mayhem. There was always sure to be something of interest for Sherlock to enjoy as well. Many of John’s interests coincided with Sherlock’s, they’d had many lovely days together as simply friends, and they would again now that they were more. London provided a more concentrated selection of the mysteries they both loved to solve but that didn’t mean there wasn’t interesting crime elsewhere.

Dinner was accomplished with much eye-rolling and groans of appreciation from John who had a full meal including an appetiser while Sherlock indulged in a much smaller meal but finished everything. The wine was crisp and delicious and went well with the sting and sear of the food. John was very satisfied and agreed to stroll toward their dessert destination so they could settle themselves. When he took Sherlock’s hand easily in his to walk down the street Sherlock couldn’t help but smile happily. Everything was going perfectly, John looked completely content.

When they got there Sherlock let John watch through the window for a second, “They’ve got goggles on.”

“I know. The technique this eatery uses to produce their desserts is intriguing. Come along John. Even I want something here!” they pushed their way inside eagerly. Sherlock had a sweet tooth and sometimes so did John though he did manage to restrain himself most times, complaining of his ever softening belly which Sherlock secretly liked. He should probably tell John that sometime so the doctor wasn’t shy about indulging himself when he felt like it.

It was filled with families and children all noisily enjoying their special treats as John and Sherlock mulled over their choices. The kids weren’t shy about offering their unsolicited advice and eventually Sherlock and John acceded to the experts and chose as directed. It was sweet, messy, delicious, and fantastic. John and Sherlock spent the entire time giggling as they tried to master the consumption of their convoluted desserts, teasing each other and simply enjoying themselves. When they were finally done John’s eyes were soft and bright and Sherlock liked the look of them so much he could hardly turn away. “Let’s head back to the hotel.” Sherlock nodded in agreement.

They were a long way from their hotel but neither man suggested a taxi as they strolled down the near empty streets, the evening well gone. There was so much to say but it didn’t seem to be the right time to say it so Sherlock said nothing at all, unwilling to unwittingly ruin the wonderful feeling they both seemed to be enjoying. Both men were tired when they finally got back and after changing into newly acquired pajamas they stood there awkwardly in Sherlock’s room. “We slept together last night, I don’t know if you want to do that again.”

John thought about it for a minute then nodded, “I think that it’s alright. Neither of us is going to do anything except sleep. You’re going to have to learn to share the bed a bit though.”

“I’ll do my best John but I will be asleep so I can’t make promises.” They climbed in and Sherlock shut the lights off, his head on his pillow and blanket drawn up to his chin. He could hear John’s breathing grow slower and steadier as he began to fall asleep. He was so far away, all the way across the bed. There was room for another person between them. It felt vast. “John?”

“Mmm?” the doctor was clearly barely awake already, the good meal and long walk enough to tire him.

“Would you mind if I slept a bit closer?” Sherlock felt his cheeks heat, it was a bit presumptuous wasn’t it?

John’s hand patted over and he pulled Sherlock close to his side, “S’okay. Cuddle up all you want.” Oh. Well in that case. Sherlock wound his arms and legs around John until he was a neat little bundle spooned close to Sherlock’s chest, “This is actually nice.” yawned John, “G’night.”

“Goodnight John.” Sherlock closed his eyes and buried his nose in John’s hair. Now if John needed to go anywhere Sherlock would be the first to know and he could keep his soldier warm and close all night long. Very content Sherlock let himself slip off to sleep filled with gratitude and happiness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION - don’t take your kids out for dessert late at night. I did it safely in a story but in real life you’re just asking for trouble.


	4. On Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are finally dating and now have decided to enjoy a bit of a getaway with one another.

The first thing John realized after he woke in the morning was that he’d just enjoyed the deepest most fulfilling sleep he’d had since before he’d gone to war. He was still locked tight in Sherlock’s arms, neither man apparently moving a muscle all through the night. That was amazing! He hadn’t had a single bad dream, he felt rested, alert, and happy. Sherlock was breathing steadily into the back of John’s head and the warmth of each puff of air was soothing and pleasant. John closed his eyes and drifted for a long time, just enjoying the feeling of being warm and loved.

Sherlock smelled nice, but not in an aftershave kind of way. He had a particular scent to him, deep and masculine, spicy and earthy at the same time. John found he liked it very much so he turned in Sherlock’s arms and buried his face in Sherlock’s neck, waking the man but Sherlock just hummed and retightened his arms around John, his head tilted back to accommodate John’s new position. Sherlock’s hand wandered up and down John’s back idly as he woke and finally with a sleepy and rumbling voice Sherlock said, “Our train leaves in two hours. What do you want to do?”

“I want breakfast in bed with my boyfriend.” Sherlock gave a sleepy laugh at John’s answer and then John felt the unmistakable press of a kiss on the top of his head. He smiled into Sherlock’s neck and cuddled as close as possible. It felt nice to be held so tightly, like Sherlock couldn’t get enough of being right next to him and it made John feel like never moving again. He’d never get enough of this.

“Whatever you want John, do you want to eat now?” John shook his head. They had a bit of time so he stayed in bed with Sherlock for a while longer before his body insisted he get up and take care of business. When he came back Sherlock was just hanging up the phone, “It won’t take long.”

By the time they were dressed and had checked everywhere for accidentally unpacked items their breakfast arrived, “Their special.” It was a Welsh breakfast and it was stunning. Sherlock ordered toast for himself but the main meal was for John, “I would imagine we could share it.” It was massive; there were piles of every type of sausage it seemed, there were eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, and all manner of other items fit onto one large platter.

“I would think so!” John was undaunted and dug into the meal with gusto while Sherlock speared the odd bite away on occasion. Even with his scavenging there was still a good deal left behind after John finally admitted he couldn’t eat another bite. “I won’t have to eat until tonight.”

Sherlock ate a bit more while they finished their tea, they still had almost an hour before their train departed so they relaxed as much as they could before finally leaving, both men full and content. Sherlock paused to ask the maid to drop the plastic bag full of John’s discarded jumpers into a bin in the alley immediately, “Don’t donate those. No one deserves that.” John laughed at Sherlock’s solemn declaration when Sherlock rejoined him at the front of the hotel to get a taxi to the train station.

The tour group was loading onto the train by the time they got Sherlock’s ticket sorted out so John and Sherlock ended up jostling their way with everyone for the next leg of their journey. Sherlock let John sit by the window after having a word with the tour director about how they were continuing on together at their own schedule. They were still given invitations to join in on group activities if they happened to be nearby and interested and John said they’d think about it. Once ensconced in their little nook Sherlock took John’s hand once again and they began to talk. Sherlock told John about his time away, side-tracked many times as John asked questions about this and that until the doctor had the bones of the story at least and hadn’t let go of Sherlock’s hand for an instant. Whenever Sherlock spoke of the harm he’d endured John’s hand would tighten a bit and his brow would furrow as if he could feel Sherlock’s pain, “I wish I could have helped you Sherlock, you know I would have, I would have come with you.”

“If we’d both gone Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade would have been forfeit. It had to be me and me alone. I’m so sorry John; your grief is what kept everyone alive. I was dead, you were proof of that. I had no idea it would take so very long and I will never stop being sorry for how much you suffered because of it.” Sherlock had only planned to be gone for a few weeks, half a year at most. Instead it had turned into a grueling haze of pain and misery that had no ease, not until Mycroft had finally shown up to pluck him out of Eastern Europe and bring him back to London to stop a terrorist. The dreams that plagued him were filled with darkness and Sherlock felt John’s hands tighten once again.

“No more hiding things from me Sherlock. If I’d known earlier we could have stopped him together, well before it became so dire.” Sherlock nodded, he knew that very well at this point, “I’m not staying with you just for good things Sherlock, I’m going to be with you during the bad things too, especially the bad things. Don’t leave me out, not again. I can handle being hurt but I can’t handle being excluded, do you understand?”

After a lifetime of always being on the outside of everything Sherlock knew full well what the doctor meant and cringed inside all over again for ever making John feel that way, “I swear John, I will never keep secrets from you, you will be a part of everything you want to be a part of, it will always be up to you.” John lit up like a ray of sunshine when Sherlock made his promise and it was breathtaking.

John’s hand became warm and caressing and Sherlock’s fingers tingled, “That means a lot to me Sherlock, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” No. Sherlock knew extremely well how much John needed to hear these assurances. John’s journal had shown Sherlock in graphic detail how being left out had been an ongoing agony for John. It had left him feeling impotent and helpless, unworthy and useless. Sherlock’s heart gave a lurch and he felt sick for a moment because John was so _very_ worthy _and_ indispensable; that Sherlock had made him feel otherwise not once, not twice, but countless times made Sherlock shudder inside as self-loathing built. He was atrocious, _never again_. That Sherlock was dead. From now on he would be John’s Sherlock, a better man, a better human, because John deserved to be with someone better than a once high-functioning sociopath.

The tour returned to London as part of its scheduled itinerary but rather than return to Baker Street John and Sherlock partook of the accommodations provided for the group, no extra room required. It was late when they pulled in so Sherlock and John ate a quiet dinner in their room to continue speaking of Sherlock’s time away. There was much to be told and after their meal John pulled Sherlock onto the sofa with him and allowed Sherlock to snuggle close under John’s arm as he told his story. John ran his hand up and down Sherlock’s arm and it was so soothing the detective found himself nodding off once or twice. When it was late Sherlock smiled as John kissed his forehead deliberately, “Let’s get some sleep.”

This time when they made it to bed Sherlock didn’t hesitate to wrap himself around John and the doctor seemed to enjoy it, shifting backward until they were tightly pressed together. Sherlock kissed the back of John’s head again before they closed their eyes and allowed themselves to drift off, once again deeply contented, both men sleeping the night away undisturbed.

The next day was fun. Sherlock knew London like no one else and so from very early in the morning until late in the afternoon he dragged his doctor from one place to another, both men laughing and smiling at each other as they took in the sights of their home town. Dinner was taken on the go, purchased from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that made the most delectable kebabs John had ever tried.

It was clearly a date so Sherlock took John dancing, he’d never gone to a club to just dance before, it had always been for a case. John insisted on drinks at the bar first so Sherlock agreed. John held Sherlock’s hand every moment, but gave it a quick squeeze and let go as the doctor excused himself to the bathroom. Sherlock sat at their small table and watched John disappear into the crowd, “This seat taken?”

There was a young woman smiling up at him and Sherlock frowned, glancing over her. Obviously married though her ring was moved, children at home, lied to spouse about evening out with the girls, clutching at her fleeting youth and waning beauty because she had little else to offer. Sherlock nearly shook his head, everything about her screamed desperation from the overheavy application of musky perfume to the sour smell of wine on her breath. She was dressed for a night out. Her makeup was skillfully and generously applied, her hair richly colored and coifed until it shone like silk but the artificial color wasn’t quite right for her skin-tone and it jarred Sherlock’s eyes just looking at it. Her skirt was predictably black and barely long enough to conceal anything, not that she was trying, her stiletto heeled feet set so that if Sherlock chose he could see if she was wearing pants or not. Her brilliantly colored blouse was as low as her skirt was high, her small breasts pushed up dramatically by a brilliantly colored and heavily padded-bra she had left deliberately peeking from the neckline, clearly advertising her availability to whichever partner caught her eye and it was just as obvious that Sherlock was the one she’d noticed, “Yes it is.” he said tersely.

“Too bad, mind if I sit here till whoever it is comes back?” she didn’t wait for permission and took the straw from Sherlock’s drink and began to nibble at it. He looked at her with distaste, “Whoever she is she can’t be as good as me,” smiled the woman invitingly, “Call me Brandi.” She then tried to draw attention to her overly painted mouth and Sherlock wondered if she was on a time limit or something, perhaps she had to be home before her husband, or whomever it was she was cheating on.

“I do actually. Please go. You are entirely incorrect. No.”

Brandi laughed like he’d told a teasing joke and tried to catch his eye, smiling coyly up at him through her lashes, “I can promise you a good time, no strings attached. It could be a night to remember. I’m very flexible.” Sherlock’s lip curled in distaste and he drew back but she was undaunted and reached out to run her hand up the outside of his thigh indiscreetly, “Whoever you’re waiting for can’t possibly offer you a night like I can.”

Sherlock pushed her hand off his leg firmly, “Indeed that is true for the person I’m waiting for will offer me an evening filled with love and mutual respect which I’m sorry to say is more than your long-term partner can expect from you. I will tell you pulling random strangers will do nothing to help your child attain the grades they need to get sponsored for higher education, nor will using me to sate yourself make you young and carefree, and that if you insist on cheating on your marriage that you should do more than move your wedding ring from one hand to the other.”

She gaped at him then grew furious with outrage, “You bastard! How dare you say such things to me! Any man here would be grateful for my attention!” She cast around for a man to prove her claims upon and saw John walking toward the table. Glaring at Sherlock she adjusted herself and swanned over to John with a wicked and inviting smile, leaning in close to Sherlock’s soldier and whispering in his ear. Sherlock scowled and grew tense.

John had a small frown on his face as he listened to the strange woman proposition him right there in the open. She drew back and gave the doctor a salacious wink and threw a triumphant glare over her shoulder at Sherlock before returning her smile to John, her invitation clear. John looked up at her with a tinge of pity before he shook his head politely and just stepped around her without a word. Brandi’s mouth dropped open when John walked right up to Sherlock to gaze into his eyes, “Would you like to dance with me Sherlock?”

Sherlock looked down at John with a glad smile, “I would love to John.” John didn’t look at Brandi even once, but kept looking up at Sherlock as he led him to the dance-floor.

Once there John pulled Sherlock close and danced him out of sight of the still glaring woman. When they’d lost themselves in the crowd John asked quietly, “Did she touch you?”

“My thigh, she was very bold.” confessed Sherlock instantly.

John’s brow furrowed and he looked steely and furious for a minute, “I’m sorry that happened Sherlock, most people really aren’t that rude.” The music was lively as well as loud so John and Sherlock merely lost themselves to the beat, allowing their bodies to move together or apart as the song required. Sherlock noted that John frequently reached out to catch his hand and that he kept a sharp eye out for the possible return of Brandi but the woman had either left or found someone willing to indulge her needs. It wasn’t until the music slowed and they were swaying in each other’s arms that John looked up and said, “I don’t like that she touched you. It bothers me.”

Sherlock deliberately took John’s hand, stopping for a moment in the middle of the dance-floor and ran John’s hand over the entire expanse the woman’s hand had touched, raising his thigh just a bit so the doctor could reach without bending, “Here. That’s all she did.” Sherlock shivered when John’s hand retraced the path before allowing Sherlock to let his leg back down.

John pulled Sherlock even closer then and even though he was so much shorter than Sherlock it was clear to anyone with eyes that John Watson was entirely in possession of the tall man in his arms. Sherlock fit himself to John, allowing the smaller man to lead until they were dancing frantically with everyone, the frown on John’s face slowly changing to a smile as the music caught them hard. It was glorious, their bodies moving together easily, both men laughing and smiling. Finally at the end of the night John was tired and Sherlock draped his arms around John’s shoulders for a final slow dance.

The taxi ride back to their hotel was filled with happy smiles and tightly linked hands. Once they got back to their room John turned on the telly and found a music station so he could dance Sherlock around the room. Sherlock melted into John’s arms and was almost deliriously happy. He kept his arms draped around John’s shoulders like he had in the club and John held Sherlock’s hips lightly with his hands as they moved and twisted together, not saying anything with their mouths but their eyes were speaking volumes.

Sherlock grew daring and allowed one hand to drift up John’s neck, delicately toying with his hair and for a second John closed his eyes. When he opened them his eyes were burning hot and John whispered, “Can I kiss you Sherlock?”

Sherlock’s heart began to pound and he felt his knees weaken. He’d never been kissed before, not once. Swallowing hard Sherlock nodded and swallowed again nervously. John smiled up and let his small strong hand slide slowly upward to the nape of Sherlock’s neck to tug him closer. Sherlock couldn’t stop his eyes from fluttering closed when their lips met. It was strange to feel the warmth of John’s mouth against his, he could feel how the smaller man moved against him and Sherlock forgot to breathe for a moment. John didn’t make any demands and just allowed Sherlock to become accustomed to the new experience. They stopped dancing, their arms tightening around each other as John gently kept the kiss going. He was tender and delicate, brushing his lips over Sherlock’s until the taller man parted them willingly and allowed John to enter.

John’s tongue against his lips was amazing. It was warm and wet and oddly firm. Sherlock was unsure if he liked it or not but when John’s tongue swept against his Sherlock’s whole body tightened in surprised delight. John made a pleased sound and Sherlock leaned down so John could deepen the kiss even more. He found he had the doctor’s head cupped in his hands, and John’s hands were once again resting lightly on Sherlock’s hips, keeping their bodies close.

For John’s part the kiss was beautiful and sweet and exactly what he needed to get over his ruffled possessiveness triggered by someone hitting on Sherlock. John had no idea he’d feel so strongly about it but he did. The kiss was highly enjoyable, even missing the normal physical arousal John had always experienced when kissing someone he had feelings for. He didn’t regret it. If kissing or perhaps some caresses were what they shared then it was enough. Sherlock was responding in the most marvelous way though, John was fairly sure Sherlock had no idea how he rumbled out little growls almost like deep purrs when John did something he particularly enjoyed. The man was clearly inexperienced but caught on quickly, his eyes remaining shut the entire time.

John wasn’t trying to arouse Sherlock or himself, he just wanted to express his feelings for the tall man in his arms. Sherlock was so innocent in so many ways; John wanted to go slow so he could tenderly introduce Sherlock to different ways of loving. John felt warm and wonderful, like he was filled with soft clouds and sunbeams but his body stirred not a jot, not that he expected it to. Just being able to kiss Sherlock was more than enough, it was far more than John had been able to do with anyone else, and it felt natural and good. Sherlock was the one who broke away finally, breathing hard and looking flushed, “John.”

“That was wonderful,” said John sincerely, “That was one of the nicest kisses I’ve ever enjoyed.”

Sherlock blushed and tried to look away but John wouldn’t let him so Sherlock dropped his gaze and muttered, “I feel a bit dizzy actually.” John laughed softly and let Sherlock sit down for a few minutes before sending him off to clean up for bed. Sherlock crawled right under the blankets the second he was washed up and in his pajamas. John took a few minutes longer to clean up before joining Sherlock, both men pleasantly tired and still a little buzzed from their first kiss. Sherlock hesitated for a moment before gathering John close to him, “I like this very much John.”

“I do too Sherlock, I really do. I think it’s helping me sleep.” the last two nights, three if you counted the night Sherlock showed up to begin with, had been the best rest John had gotten in years. John very much enjoyed the covetous way Sherlock held him, his long legs trapping John’s just as his arms both pillowed John’s head and cradled him to Sherlock’s chest. He felt his entire body relax, all his worries and tensions gone so when Sherlock pressed a goodnight kiss to the back of the doctor’s head John simply closed his eyes to fell asleep instantly and slept through the night peacefully.

John woke first. He was stirred from slumber not by Sherlock’s snores which buzzed against the back of his head with an even cadence but by Sherlock’s body which had decided to say good morning to John’s body without asking permission from Sherlock’s brain. As John’s eyes flew open he suddenly recalled how Sherlock said he was physically capable of whatever John wanted which was certainly true since the evidence was now pressed solidly against one cheek of John’s behind. John swallowed hard because a couple of things were becoming evident to him. One - Sherlock was a god-damned horse! Two – John’s body wanted to say good morning too.

John was entirely startled. He hadn’t woken with a morning erection in so long he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. He wasn’t entirely hard but even the slight swelling he experienced was more than he’d felt in years. Sherlock’s erection remained firm for only a short while before it too dissipated. If John hadn’t woken he would never have known. He didn’t feel desire per se but John began to wonder what it could lead to and those thoughts kept him still and quiet in Sherlock’s arms until the tall man finally woke.

“John, are you alright?” Sherlock could sense that something had happened but they were still in bed and their phones were recharging across the room so John couldn’t have gotten a message that would have disturbed him.

“Yeah, I think so.” John wasn’t sure how to tell Sherlock but they had promised no secrets and since this was a problem John had had for a long time, he felt obligated to inform his boyfriend, “You were kind of poking me in the behind a little bit ago.” Sherlock drew back instantly and made an embarrassed sound but John caught his arm before the detective could disappear entirely, “Stop. I’m not finished…er…it seems like maybe my problem might not be a problem anymore.”

Sherlock stilled, “Oh.”

“Yeah.” John didn’t know what else to say.

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“I’m thinking yes.”

There was a moment of silence then Sherlock said, “Did that mean you wanted to…”

“What? No! No, no not now! God…it’s…I’m sure I want to…if you do. I...uh…haven’t really…I think I need a bit of time to get used to this all again.” Now John was embarrassed because it sounded like he was rejecting Sherlock when he wasn’t! He still wasn’t sure if he could actually have sex, a momentary morning erection wasn’t proof of anything and John still didn’t feel that burn of desire he’d experienced with past lovers though the small intimacies he was beginning to share with Sherlock were more than worthwhile.

“Oh good, _no_ , not good that we’re not, I mean, it is good that we’re not only because … oh … I… John I have no idea what an appropriate response is. I’m not ready to have sex but I am very pleased that you have made progress. Congratulations on the return of your genital functionality.” John burst out laughing. Sherlock had said exactly the right thing and John felt at ease again.

He twisted around until he was back in Sherlock’s arms and facing him, “Thanks Sherlock. I’m not ready to have sex either but I appreciate the support.” They laughed softly with one another and hugged for a minute before getting up. They had a full day planned so after another hearty breakfast they were off.

They did every touristy thing on the trip itinerary, checking off their list and finalizing it with appropriately cheesy pictures of them posed in front of distinctive buildings or statuary all over London. Sherlock found another jumper to add to John’s new collection and John found another blue scarf to temporarily replace Sherlock’s normal one which was still at the flat, this one knitted with a faint tartan. Sherlock wore it immediately.

They went on the museum tours but John got Sherlock to slip away from the guided tour to do it himself, Sherlock knew more than most of the curators when it came to some things and John enjoyed Sherlock’s voice as the man explained in meticulous detail about each exhibit John was interested in. They made plans to return another time to continue and went out for dinner.

This time Sherlock took John to a very crowded pub he knew where John got to enjoy the house beer and some of the unhealthiest food Sherlock had ever encountered, all eaten with zeal by the good doctor, Sherlock managed most of his but mostly enjoyed John’s attempts to not watch the massive telly which was broadcasting the latest game of something which everyone else at the bar seemed very interested in. Finally he could tease him no longer, “Go ahead John, I don’t mind. You can even watch up at the bar if you want.”

“No I couldn’t.” protested John immediately but his eyes went guiltily back to the screen.

“I brought you here specifically for this John. You have it marked on your calendar as _Birling Day_.”

John looked both embarrassed and moved at the same time, “Are you sure Sherlock? This isn’t very entertaining for you.”

“No I have no understanding of sports but you love them and I want you to be happy. I truly don’t mind as long as you don’t mind me watching you from here.” In fact this would be a fantastic opportunity to people watch, an activity which kept Sherlock’s skills sharp. John wavered, “Fine, I’ll make you come to the opera with me in return.” John’s laugh was all the reward Sherlock needed as the doctor finally agreed to just go enjoy the big game and left Sherlock at the table to nurse a beer and play on his mobile.

He didn’t touch it, not once. John was riveting. The doctor shouted and cheered with the rest of the people at the bar. People groaned and complained together, bonding over likes and dislikes until everyone was a loud rowdy mass of laughter and joviality. John drank toasts to plays and scores, joined in yelling rude things to referees that couldn’t hear them, and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Watching John smile and laugh was one of the most wonderful things Sherlock had ever experienced because he’d done this. He’d taken John someplace that made the doctor happy and it showed. Sherlock felt warm inside and grateful all over again for his big chance to be fix things with John.

There seemed to be a small break in the actual game and John came over, “This is brilliant, absolutely brilliant, thanks love.”

Sherlock smiled, “I’m very happy you’re having a good time.”

“You’re not bored are you, we can go if you want.” offered John, once again being unreasonably noble.

“I wouldn’t think of it. I haven’t been bored for a moment. It’s been fascinating. I’ve deduced that this activity has actually reduced the potential for serious crimes to occur due to the micro-society generated within the confines of the pub.” John blinked at him and Sherlock blinked back, “I can explain if you’re interested.”

“The game’s almost back on, you’ve got two minutes.” said John with a smile and he took Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock tilted his head, “The degree of comradery shared by the current participants has created a sense of extending friendship with people who are, in a large degree, strangers to one another. The man in black over there would have driven home inebriated tonight had not a new acquaintance relieved him of his keys and given them to the bartender. The young woman is out alone tonight but has managed to find a group of women willing to escort her safely home since the people she originally intended to meet canceled at the last moment. You yourself have made sure to include everyone around you in your commentary so no one feels left out. There are dozens of other similar circumstances and it’s been quite illuminating watching a community form and all because of a game on the telly.”

“That’s amazing.” said John who did indeed look amazed, “I love going out on Birling Day, I’ve gone to a different pub every time and it’s always incredible. You’re right, when people have a common interest it’s easier to get to know one another. I suppose I’m just lucky you have _uncommon_ interests, that way I get you all to myself.” Right there in the pub John leaned down and kissed Sherlock lightly on the lips. Sherlock blushed. “I’m having a great time.”

“I’m glad John, you’d better go, I do believe it’s starting again.” John kissed Sherlock quickly one more time and went back to the bar to shout his way through the rest of the game. Sherlock enjoyed the shouts of elation that erupted when whichever favored team won. People clapped each other on the back and toasted each other once again before finally dispersing back to their tables of origin. John was beaming when he came back to Sherlock, “That was so much fun. Thanks for letting me do this.”

“No thanks are necessary John, it was my very great pleasure.”

They shared one last drink before leaving at long last and when they got back to the hotel John kissed Sherlock once more. It was lovely and languorous, gentle and sweet. Sherlock wanted more so John took him to the sofa where they proceeded to kiss for what seemed like hours. John showed him how to kiss along his jaw or over his eyelids, on the tip of his nose, and back to his mouth until Sherlock felt like his limbs were made of treacle, and he could barely move for all the love he felt for John. John kissed Sherlock tenderly and then looked Sherlock directly in the eyes, “Come to bed with me.”

Sherlock was fairly sure John didn’t mean to sleep.

 

[Flocci made me a dancing Sherlock and Potato John](http://floccinaucinihilipilificationa.tumblr.com/post/100337930982/i-absolutely-adore-potato-john-and-dance-around-happily)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a huge fan of floccinaucinihilipilification cartoons, specifically Potato John. Shamelessly I flaunt the latest creation. Birling Day is of course a massive nod to Cabin Pressure (BBC) which I love and you will love too if you haven't already listened to it.


	5. Begin With A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has taken John out for a very successful night and now it seems that the doctor is interested in a bit more than a simple goodnight kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to human several times today and it was not only exhausting but time consuming. Despite the almost herculean efforts that life put into delaying me I finished the chapter. For everyone who waited so patiently and especially for those who waited impatiently I hope it's everything you were hoping for. Enjoy.

 

Sherlock was nervous and excited at the same time. He wanted this but he was afraid as well. He knew what sex was about, understood the requirements for various acts and positions and was sure he could manage all of it but actually _doing it_ was a whole different matter. What would it feel like? What intensity of pleasure would he experience? What would that be like? Would it be noisy? Smelly? It would be sticky at the very least. Would John be capable or even interested? Perhaps the doctor would decide he couldn’t do anything so Sherlock decided it would all be up to John. Wordlessly Sherlock nodded and allowed John to draw him to the hotel bed, “I just want to become familiar with you, would that be alright?”

Oh, so not sex? Well, that was a very different thing so Sherlock relaxed and nodded, “Would you like me to undress?” Sherlock understood curiosity very well, John must wonder what it felt like to caress a man’s body and Sherlock certainly wasn’t going to let John go practice on someone else!

He stripped. Sherlock had no trouble being nude. His transport was unremarkable as far as he could determine, barely masculine enough, but well formed. Sherlock didn’t have a lot of body hair, even around his penis the pubic hair was dense but not wide-spread. It was just a body, one that he used as he needed and no more. He hung his clothes neatly away and just stood there, waiting for John to examine him.

John just looked at Sherlock for a moment before asking, “Did you want me naked too?” Sherlock shrugged. If John wanted to be nude that was fine. He’d seen most of John over the years one way or the other, though the doctor was a very modest man. They did share a very small flat and a single bathroom, exposure happened. “Give me a second.”

John stripped down too and Sherlock looked at him with interest. John was a very handsome man in Sherlock’s limited opinion. His skin was cream with a hint of honey but not boring. It had all sorts of faint freckles, moles, dozens of assorted scars not including the magnificent beauty of the sniper scar on his left shoulder. John had a patch of chest hair and his body had once been hard and fit but had softened gently with the years, ripening until it had reached its current state of perfection. John’s entire life was written on his flesh and it was incredible. Sherlock realized he was examining John the way John had planned to examine him but the doctor was just smiling, “Excuse me John.”

“We can both look; there are no rules we have to follow.” Oh, well that was good to know. “Yes you can touch,” John must have seen the very next question on his lips, “Just so you know things might happen, you know, in the downstairs area.”

Sherlock unaccountably blushed, “I’m sure we can figure something out if that situation presents itself.” Sherlock wasn’t prudish about sex; he’d just never been interested before. Now he realized he _was_ interested but there was no need to be bashful about it, he had no idea why his cheek had heated so quickly. He’d already told John he was willing to do whatever the doctor wanted and he had meant it.

John took a good long look at Sherlock. He wouldn’t normally stare at a potential lover quite like this but this was Sherlock and John wanted to know him better. He understood that the scientist really had disassociated himself from his body; there were plenty of faint scars all over his otherwise flawless skin from countless incidents, accidental or otherwise. Sherlock had a poorly developed sense of fear that had been unfortunately reinforced by his continuing survival despite the improbable amount of times he’d exposed himself to every manner of weapon, poison, or dangerous situation he could think of because he could think of a lot.

Aesthetically speaking John decided Sherlock was actually very attractive, though he didn’t generally find men appealing. Sherlock had long graceful limbs and though he could be awkward there was a strange fluidity to his movements, like Sherlock was a wild thing that had disguised himself by wearing civilization no deeper than the layers of fabric he clothed himself in. Now that he was bare Sherlock actually looked more natural, as if this was his given state, and hiding behind bespoke suits was how he grudgingly bowed to the conventions of society as a whole. If he absolutely had to wear clothes they would be the best available. Suddenly John wondered if they could afford the heating bill if they decided to make their flat a clothing optional environment. John thought he might not mind seeing Sherlock naked all the time. He was entirely at ease, merely standing still so John could walk around and just look at him.

John allowed himself to reach out and trace his fingers over Sherlock’s body, beginning in at his back and along his shoulders, easy to touch places that didn’t make John feel strange or odd. Sherlock seemed to like it, arching into each touch but then, he would have no idea what it was like to be touched by someone who was likely to be his lover. That changed John’s entire perspective on what he was doing. He wasn’t just looking, or allowing himself to become accustomed to a male form. He was introducing Sherlock to everything to do with intimacy. No one would ever be able to make that claim except for John. Sherlock had no experience, no idea what he would be missing if John just decided he couldn’t do it.

That thought made John very uncomfortable. What if Sherlock went through the rest of his life never knowing what it was like to be kissed with passionate intent, to be held close when both bodies were hot and sweat slicked from exertion, what if Sherlock spent the rest of his life never knowing what it was like to be shown how good he could really feel, how love could be expressed this way. Sherlock loved him, John knew he did, and Sherlock wasn’t going to ask for a single thing, no he wasn’t. John planned on working on that developing attitude because he wanted an equal partnership and if Sherlock was afraid or unwilling to ask for what he needed or wanted, then that wasn’t equal at all.

It was momentarily startling when Sherlock’s large firm hand came to rest gently on John’s back. With fingers spread wide Sherlock deliberately explored the contours of John’s body, his eyes focused and serious. John followed his example and really looked. There were tiny flaws in Sherlock’s skin but John had never really made note of them because they weren’t exactly flaws, they were characteristics that made Sherlock unique. The tiny moles that appeared here and there for instance, John found he had leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one on Sherlock’s chest and felt Sherlock inhale sharply, “Is that alright?” he asked softly.

“That felt very different than when you kiss my mouth,” said Sherlock, his head tilted to the side as he looked down at John. “I’m not sure if I’d call it pleasurable but it was pleasant.” John smiled a bit to himself and kept exploring. Suddenly Sherlock leaned down and pressed a kiss to John’s scarred shoulder. The doctor knew Sherlock was fascinated with it, this wasn’t the first time he’d shown interest in the mar, and John was intrigued to find that the normally deadened area almost tingled after. “That’s very nice too John. Do you mind?”

“No, I liked it.” They stood there now nearly chest to chest, their hands sweeping slowly up and down, wandering languidly, “Let’s move to the bed.”

Sherlock nodded and allowed John to arrange him on the pillows so the doctor could kneel beside him, “I’m going to touch if that’s alright.”

“Are you going to kiss too?” asked Sherlock who rather liked that idea.

“Would you like me to?” asked John so Sherlock nodded quickly, “I can do that, your transport might enjoy this.” John had every intention of ensuring that it did. He began again at Sherlock’s arm, just letting his fingers trail. When he got to Sherlock’s chest John leaned forward and began to press random kisses up and down Sherlock’s torso. A quick glance showed that Sherlock’s cheeks were slightly flushed and he was growing warmer the more John caressed him.

John shifted a bit and kissed Sherlock’s mouth, starting gently and allowing Sherlock to silently ask for more until they were pressed together, kissing one another hungrily. When John moved to kiss Sherlock’s neck he sucked the skin a bit and Sherlock yelped out a startled cry, “That…that was very good.” Sherlock sounded surprised so John did it again, kissing the length of Sherlock’s neck before deftly moving to suck another kiss over a sensitive bit of skin to wring a second startled cry out of the taller man, “John I could feel that…elsewhere.” _Good_ , thought John. _Let’s see what else you can feel_.

John began a deliberate assault to arouse Sherlock. The doctor was captivated by all of Sherlock’s astounded gasps, his body twitching reflexively whenever something became too intense. John found he was enjoying the experience very much, he wanted to give Sherlock pleasure, he wanted him to feel bliss. John was naturally a giver in bed so every new thing he did to Sherlock was done slowly, savored before moving on. Sherlock’s skin was strangely sweet, like he’d been dipped in a dusting of sugar but still a bit salty as well and John liked it very much.

For the taller man something had changed when John kissed his neck, some kind of switch had been thrown, some sort of new connection forged in his brain or an ancient one finally utilized but whatever had happened Sherlock had never been so aware of his skin. John’s warm hands and mouth had sensitized him nearly everywhere, and now John had added sucking kisses to his caresses and each one made Sherlock shiver from head to toe.

He was forming an erection too. Sherlock was fairly sure John hadn’t noticed because none of his caresses had included Sherlock’s genitals, not yet at least, the doctor had covered very nearly every inch of Sherlock otherwise. He whimpered almost silently and felt his cock grow a tiny bit harder. He couldn’t help it. His heart was beating so fast, the blood coursing through his arteries and veins frantically; it was a normal physical response. John had told him to expect it. He just hadn’t anticipated it to feel so… Sherlock struggled to describe it to himself. Anxious? He was tense but not unpleasantly so. He felt like his body was tight, but at the same time he felt relaxed. The dichotomy of each new sensation was overwhelming him and Sherlock didn’t know if it was too much input or not enough. The pleasant sensation he’d first experience seemed to be growing, expanding with each kiss the soldier gave him until Sherlock felt as tight as a bowstring and trembled from head to toe with anticipation. Sherlock was startled when he felt something warm drip onto his lower abdomen. He looked down at his transport, “John, I’m leaking.”

John sat back on his heels and finally looked at Sherlock’s cock. He hadn’t exactly been ignoring it but he knew Sherlock wasn’t nearly ready to be touched like that yet. The man had fallen to pieces from John just touching his thighs and sides. It wasn’t nearly as intimidatingly large as John had assumed from his one slightly panicked experience but it was still fairly long, decently thick with a slightly flared head peeking from his foreskin. Sherlock was indeed leaking, his cock jutting eagerly from its nest of curls and demanding attention. “Oh god you are.” John was suddenly fascinated. He’d done this to Sherlock, he’d made Sherlock normally unresponsive body come to life. Look how hard he was! John glanced up at the man almost panting beside him, “Sherlock are you alright?”

Sherlock looked almost afraid, staring at his penis as if he’d never seen it before, “Is it supposed to do that?”

John bit back the laugh that would have been too cruel to let fly, “Yes Sherlock, that happens when you transport is really, really enjoying itself. Would you like me to try something?”

Sherlock had to blink for a second as he tore his gaze from the glistening head of his own cock to look at John, “What would you like to do?”

“Well, I have everything I own with me, including lube so…” John wasn’t sure how to phrase his idea. “I’m not saying we have to do anything extreme but I’d like to touch you and it would be a lot more enjoyable if my hands weren’t dry.”

Well that was logical so Sherlock nodded cautiously, “Alright.” John got off the bed. Sherlock noted that the doctor was flushed but that his own cock lay against his thigh undisturbed. Well, John said he needed time so Sherlock decided not to ask him if he was aroused or not. It didn’t take long for John to come back.

“This is ancient; it was just in the drawer with everything I threw into my case. If you like this we’ll get some new.” John showed Sherlock a clear container with a thick viscous fluid inside, opening it John dribbled a bit onto his palm and slicked his hand, “Tell me if this is too much.”

John straddled Sherlock’s thighs, seating himself and Sherlock found he liked the weight of him on his lap. It felt secure and stabilizing, something he very much needed because John was gingerly beginning to touch him. It was electrifying.

John wrapped his hand slowly around the base of Sherlock’s cock and slid his slick hand the entire length until he got to the tip. Sherlock let out a sharp exhale of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. That felt insanely good. “Have you ever orgasmed before?”

Sherlock shook his head in negation, “Not on purpose. I’ve experienced night emissions but that’s the extent of it.” John wondered how Sherlock had managed to avoid orgasm for so long. “I’ve never ever touched myself, except in the most necessary way.” Well that explained a bit of it but John remembered very well the almost frenzied lust he’d felt as a young man. “Are you going to make me orgasm?”

“Do you want me to?” John was still touching Sherlock’s cock, just gently exploring it without doing too much to stimulate him.

“I don’t know. It’s likely to be very overwhelming. I might not be able to process that very well.” Sherlock wasn’t protesting though, he was just informing John who nodded and leaned forward to kiss Sherlock again, “It feels very, very nice though John. Very nice.”

“Mmm, it does love. Relax. Just let yourself feel it. If I do something that’s uncomfortable you tell me right away, there’s no right or wrong but everyone is a bit different so what might feel good to someone else might not feel good to you. You let me know alright? I want you to feel only the good things.” John was crouched over Sherlock, one hand working Sherlock’s cock firmly now, their mouths pressed together in a heated kiss. Sherlock was beginning to moan a bit and John liked the deep rumble of it very much. It was a bit strange to be handling another man’s cock like this but John wasn’t intimidated. He quickly got used to the different angle and began to change the tempo and pressures a bit until Sherlock’s hips thrust upward of their own volition.

“Sorry, oh god…..sorry…” moaned Sherlock who had his eyes closed and was biting his lower lip between words. John finally noticed that Sherlock had one hand fiercely gripping the headboard, and the other hand knotted into the bed sheets so hard his knuckles were white, “So good…John?”

“It’s okay love, just let the feeling build, it’s going to get better, so much better.” John’s voice was rough and thick, he was feeling flushed now, the exertion from working on Sherlock was making him sweat just the tiniest bit. John kept kissing him whenever it looked like Sherlock was feeling too much and finally Sherlock nearly sat up straight, his eyes wide open, his gaze fixed on his cock.

John found he was making soothing sounds, especially when Sherlock dropped his head to John’s shoulder, his long arms reaching up to tangle into John’s short hair as Sherlock panted and began to huff out agonized puffs of breath, “John? John something’s happening. John? Oh…its…oh….John…it’s too much….John? Oh! Oh! John?” Before John could ask if he needed stop Sherlock threw his head back and nearly howled as his cock throbbed. John moaned with him as thick blobs of semen flowed over his fingers, dripping into Sherlock’s pubic hair as the tall man fell back, his hips rocking instinctively through his orgasm.

Sherlock was astounded at the sensation the event brought with it. It felt like his entire body was involved, his skin popping with sweat as a full body blush heated him from head to toe. The good feeling had become nearly an agony of intensity as all the lovely things John had made him feel seemed to suddenly concentrate on his cock. The first jet of semen he felt leave his body was one sensation too many and he couldn’t help the cry he made. He’d never felt so good, his nervous system was overloading, his mind blanking out as he was filled with delicious shocks that left him tingling with delight. This was orgasm? This was what he’d never sought before? All the pleasures Sherlock had ever experienced in his life were shadows! This was the epitome of bliss and all too soon it was over.

John was kissing Sherlock gently, removing his hand before the Sherlock could tell him he was too sensitive to be touched any more. He seemed to be saying something in a low voice that was filled with love but Sherlock couldn’t separate the sounds into words and simply floated as never before enjoyed endorphins flooded his system and temporarily disconnected him from everything. At long last he was able to open his eyes. John was laying on his side next to Sherlock who realized he’d been cleaned up a bit, his skin no longer sweaty or sticky, “That was amazing.” he managed to say.

“I’m glad.” John leaned in and kissed Sherlock, “I was a bit worried it had been too much for you, you were gone for a while.”

Sherlock had been entirely vulnerable in that state yet John had simply watched over him, making sure he was safe and comfortable and Sherlock curled himself over to his doctor. John cared for him so much, he never needed to be asked, he just did it and Sherlock realized once again how lucky he was that he had John’s heart, “I love you John.”

There was silence so Sherlock looked up and caught his breath. John’s eyes were so intense, dark and looking deep into Sherlock’s, “Say that again.”

“I love you John.” said Sherlock, trying to infuse those few inadequate words with all the feelings he had that were for John alone, Sherlock felt practically nothing for anyone else, those few he counted as his closest associates were nowhere as dear to him as John was. He tried to let John see on his face how the soldier had reached deep inside him and made Sherlock feel when his entire life before John had been an emotionless wasteland. Only for John could Sherlock even allow himself to try because being with John was good and right and the way the world should be, he loved John, entirely.

Sherlock shifted enough to kiss John tenderly and the doctor held him close, kissing him back, keeping it sweet and tender. Sherlock wanted more so he twisted his body so he could straddle John’s hips and lean forward to continue kissing John. Sherlock was so happy, he felt wonderful and he wanted to show John how grateful he was that they were together and sharing what they shared. John finally pulled back enough to say, “I love you Sherlock, I do, I love you.”

Sherlock wanted to smile but he was busy kissing John so he stroked his fingers over John’s chest instead, running his hands slowly up and down John’s skin as much as he was able. It felt very nice so Sherlock allowed himself to shift a bit more until he was nearly lying on John, rubbing his body softly up and down to enjoy the friction of skin against skin. Eventually Sherlock had to draw back, biting little kisses along John’s jaw until he reached the doctor’s ear, “John?”

John kissed his mouth again before saying, “Yeah?”

Sherlock rocked his hips slowly one time and John gasped, “You’re hard.”

“Oh god I am!” John sounded as shocked as Sherlock had sounded earlier. Both of them looked. John was as hard as Sherlock had been, not leaking yet but fully engorged.

“Tell me what to do.” Sherlock fumbled for the bottle of lube John had dropped beside the pillow. He accidentally lost the lid in his hurry and had to stick the bottle between the pillows to keep it upright after pouring far too much onto his palm in his zeal, “May I?”

John shook his head to clear it before nodding, “Just…start slow. Do the same thing I did to you.” Sherlock wrapped his fingers around John’s shaft. It was very hard but soft at the same time, the flesh spongier than he would have thought, the slide of John’s foreskin enticingly wet. Sherlock wondered if John would mind if he used his mouth some time. That would be fascinating. For now he stroked John, unsure as to how to move his hand until John covered it with his, “Like this.”

John guided him, each man moving haltingly at first, “Don’t squeeze too much, I like it a bit softer.” Sherlock adjusted his grip until they were moving in harmony. John encouraged him to try a bit of a twist, “God, I’d forgotten how good that is.” John got Sherlock to move a bit faster. His hand was getting sore from the strange angle and the new activity. He decided he’d need to practice to build up his stamina. He’d have to talk to John about it. Right now John was beginning to pant in the most intriguing way, his eyes glued on their hands as they moved together. Sherlock slid his other hand down between his own thighs to cup and roll John’s testicles just a bit. It seemed like a good move when John began to moan softly and rocked his hips slightly. “Oh god this is amazing, it’s bloody amazing,” panted John, “Mmm, soon love, soon soon soon soon!”

Sherlock was breathless, his eyes wide as he stared hard. He didn’t want to miss an instant of this. John’s hands were now clamped onto Sherlock’s hips, his lips pressed together as he breathed through his nose. He felt it begin even before John’s moan got louder. The soldier’s cock thickened and grew imperceptibly harder before a hot wash of semen jetted thickly over John’s belly, Sherlock kept his hand going as John continued to groan for a moment, his face in the most glorious rictus of what seemed to be extreme pain but that Sherlock knew was the ecstasy of orgasm. The memory of his own orgasm was very fresh in his mind and Sherlock gloried in the fact that he had made John feel this good and he’d only used his hands.

When John was finally lax and breathing heavily on the pillows Sherlock removed himself and fetched a warm damp flannel from the bathroom. He saw one already rinsed and wrung out on the edge of the tub. John must have done him the same service earlier. John wasn’t out of it like Sherlock had been but he still let himself be wiped clean and lovingly kissed before Sherlock went to clean himself up a bit and rejoin John in bed. They cuddled for a few minutes before John said, “I had no intention of getting that carried away but I can’t say I’m sorry for it. This has been a remarkable night.”

John was very content to lay there with Sherlock nestled in his arms instead of being wrapped up in Sherlock. The tall man had his head on John’s chest and was curled up tight, his slender arm reaching across to hug John’s ribs, “I would say you have nothing to be sorry for. Both of us received most unexpected benefits thanks to that detour from your original intentions.” Sherlock kissed John’s chest, “I do love you John, I’ve been remiss in saying so. I won’t make that mistake again.” It was easily corrected. If all it had taken to re-engage John’s body was the open declaration of his feelings then Sherlock was months and weeks past due doing so, “I love you.”

“I guess I really needed to hear that. I love you too, I should tell you all the time.” said John who sounded content and very tired, “Not to make light of everything that just happened but I am shagged right out and I’m about to fall asleep.”

“I won’t be far behind you.” promised Sherlock who closed his eyes and listened to the air being drawn into John’s lungs and the steady thumping of his heart. It was wonderfully soothing and relaxing, even when John began to snore softly, the gentle buzz of it making Sherlock smile a bit as his own body relaxed and he drifted off, his dreams filled with warmth and love.

 


	6. Edinburgh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have had a breakthrough experience and their vacation isn't even over yet.

John woke first again. Sherlock was still in his arms, his head still on John’s chest and suddenly John was filled with a wave of love so extreme he almost couldn’t breathe. He felt so good, he was filled with happiness and it felt so right. This was how they were meant to be, together. John thought of all the time that had passed since he’d first met Sherlock, thought of all the things they’d gone through both alone and together. He was content now, willing to deal with anything at all if it meant he could be with Sherlock for the rest of his life. Sherlock had managed to assuage every doubt and concern John had ever felt, and this week had been the most tumultuous and rewarding week he’d ever lived through. He kissed Sherlock’s hair gently and felt the taller man stir, “Good morning love.”

“Mmm.” Sherlock kept his eyes closed for a minute more and wiggled a tiny bit closer, kissing John’s chest blindly, “Good morning John.”

“Still sleepy?”

“Mmm.”

“We have to catch a train today.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you getting up?”

“Mmm.” John laughed softly and Sherlock smiled but kept his eyes closed, “Do you not want to finish the vacation love?”

“I never want it to end.” said Sherlock quietly, “This has been the most extraordinary trip I’ve ever been on.”

John felt warm all the way through and he tilted Sherlock’s head back so he could kiss him properly, “I love you Sherlock.” another kiss was exchanged, “If we want to go we have to leave soon, come on love, let’s get up. We can share a shower.”

Sherlock blushed a bit but got up and padded naked to the bathroom. It didn’t take long for them to clean up, regardless of what they’d done the night before they were both in no rush to get back to bed. Their train was leaving in a couple of hours and both men knew the next time they were intimate they’d need a lot of time. Instead they took a quick detour to Baker Street to drop off most of John’s things in the foyer excepting a single bag which was all he needed for the last few days of their vacation. Mrs. Hudson wasn’t home but they hung a gift for her on the door anyway, she’d see it when she got home. After a bit of shopping and a very quick breakfast on the go they were chasing their train, meeting with the tour group hand in hand.

Sherlock and John were in their own little world though they were surrounded by people, they kept their conversation low but Sherlock had resumed telling John about his time away. He’d done a great deal and covered a lot of ground, John had many questions and thus occupied they failed to notice anything at all about their trip and arrived at Edinburgh entirely surprised. It was still relatively early in the afternoon so leaving the group, they signed into a different hotel room that Sherlock insisted upon and took themselves off for a tour of the city. John found a self-guided tour that took three days to complete. They only had two so laughing hard they raced around everywhere and tried to jam in as many entertainments as they could into their evening, finishing with an extremely late dinner at a boisterous pub filled with laughter. By the time they decided to make their way back to their hotel room it was very late at night and both men were pleasantly weary.

“Want to have a bath?” asked Sherlock with a small smile.

John yawned, he felt very tired and wasn’t sure if he really wanted to have a bath so late. Bed sounded better but Sherlock pushed him toward the washroom anyway. “Fine, obviously you want a bath…oh!”

The room was opulent, certainly, Sherlock had sent Mycroft a message and had this precise room reserved for them specifically for the surprise that waited for John. The dark wood paneling was elegant and all the fixtures were charmingly old fashioned but John was in love with the bathtub, “I knew you’d want to.” said Sherlock and John most heartily agreed. It was gorgeous, a huge copper tub that was deep enough to go all the way to his chin with water if he chose. There was a tray of complimentary bath oils in various fragrances so while Sherlock filled the tub with piping hot water John sniffed each one until he found a blend that was floral and spicy at the same time. Stripping down to their skins Sherlock got in first, followed by John and both men sighed as they lay back, Sherlock against the sloping back and John resting against his chest.

Sherlock was very pleased with how happy John was. The smaller man had his eyes shut and there was a small smile on his face as he let his arms float on the water, his hands resting on Sherlock’s knees. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s ribs and thoroughly enjoyed relaxing with his lover. John was nicely heavy and pressed reassuringly against Sherlock who found he enjoyed tactile activities with the soldier very much. Clearly Sherlock had underestimated the use of several of his transport’s functions. The sensory input generated by their new relationship was awakening Sherlock to the possibilities of further pleasures. John had barely touched him, but the sensations he’d been able to wring from Sherlock’s body had been addictive and now the detective had a new craving to satisfy.

Sherlock knew there was a vast complement of things they could do together as lovers, he’d read several versions of the Kama Sutra over the years as well as several other ancient guides to physical love. An astounding amount of crimes did involve sex but Sherlock had until now viewed it no more intriguing than his ash review, or his comprehensive study on brand name fragrances. Now he set a room of his mind palace aside to sort and discard acts that were unfeasible to him, he’d hardly need to know how to perform cunnilingus for instance; that sort of thing could go into long-term storage for review as the crime called for it. Sherlock _was_ interested in using his mouth so he paid attention to everything he’d read that would allow him to make the most of that orifice. Once that was working itself out Sherlock allowed the rest of his active mind to go back to paying attention to John.

Sherlock ran his hands slowly up and down John’s arms, shifting just enough to move his hands up to work the stiffness out of John’s bad shoulder. The soldier sighed and let his head loll back so Sherlock kissed his hair. He stilled his hands and wrapped his arms around the smaller man once again, cinching his thighs a bit so John was anchored. John relaxed more and more and Sherlock smiled to himself when he heard a small snore, John had fallen asleep in his arms. Sherlock leaned his head forward and kissed John’s ear gently, “We have to get out of the tub.” John woke up a bit but not much, enough for Sherlock to get him out of the water before it finished draining, standing just long enough for Sherlock to towel him off. As soon as they were both dry Sherlock led his sleepy doctor to the outrageously pillowed bed, took a minute to fling the extra cushions to the floor before tucking the small man near the middle. Sherlock cuddled up tight and wrapped his arms and legs around John, holding him close and kissing the sleeping man’s hair, “I love you John, with all my heart.”

*   *   *

Normally John woke first. Not this morning. John’s eyes opened and took in the luxurious room they had rented, his mouth dropping open in a surprised groan because Sherlock was crouched over him and was kissing his way down John’s chest and stomach. John blinked and looked down, “You were hard when I woke and I was curious, do you mind?” asked Sherlock in between kisses, John thought for an instant. Did he mind being woken up by a naked man who seemed determined to kiss every inch of him and oh…what….oh my that was good! Sherlock had gotten to John’s navel and had swirled his tongue inside it. Normally this didn’t do anything for John but when Sherlock did it John felt a jolt of pleasure that let his brain know his cock was one hundred percent behind the plan of telling Sherlock to continue.

“Go ahead.” said John who wasn’t really thinking clearly yet. He was still half-asleep so he closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of Sherlock tasting him all over, “Whatever you want.”

Sherlock hummed agreeably and pushed John’s thighs wide. The doctor was startled, ready to retract the _whatever_ part in case Sherlock didn’t realize there was a process that needed following if he wanted to…oh…oh that’s not what Sherlock was doing! The tall man knelt between John’s knees, bent forward and boldly licked a strip from John’s balls to the tip of his cock without warning, “Oh my god Sherlock!” John’s eyes flew open and his head lifted as he looked down.

Sherlock looked fascinated, his tongue darted out again and he ran it over the very tip of John’s cock which was too intense, John’s hips jerked back and Sherlock sat back on his heels, his eyes closed, and a considering look on his face. “Ah, yes.” he said and nodded to himself. Sherlock opened his eyes, smiled up at John and then bent his head again. John groaned as Sherlock used his hand to rub up and down John’s shaft for a moment before covering it with his mouth slowly. Sherlock was sucking John off and he was brilliant at it!

Sherlock allowed the head of John’s cock to push into his mouth and then used his diabolically clever tongue to tease and explore before letting more of John’s length enter. Sherlock kept his fist around John’s shaft, working him slowly while his other hand crept down to gently roll and fondle John’s testicles. It was devastatingly and almost embarrassingly effective. Sherlock had clearly never done this before but each probe of his tongue, each clutch of his hand seemed to be self-correcting and John realized Sherlock was deducing how John liked it based on facts in his head and correlating them with the reactions John was demonstrating now. The knowledge that Sherlock was using his genius to bring John pleasure was the final straw on John’s practically non-existent self-control and with a cry of warning John tried to push Sherlock head away. “I’m coming!” he stuttered and Sherlock simply bent further down until the head of John’s cock was at the very back of his throat and swallowed. John had to shout. His orgasm was sharp and almost too intense to be enjoyable. He found he was gripping Sherlock’s curls and pushing his cock even deeper into his mouth but Sherlock didn’t seem to mind. He swallowed again and John shouted a second time, his cock still pulsing the last of his seed onto Sherlock’s tongue.

Sherlock released him slowly, pressing gentle kisses over it before kissing John’s hips, his belly, his chest and finally his mouth. John was still sour from sleep but neither man protested as he tasted the bitterness on Sherlock’s lips, “That was marvelous John, I’ll be doing that again often.”

“How’d you know how?” asked John weakly with a voice rough and hoarse, still trying to catch his breath. That had to be the fastest blow job in history. He hadn’t come that quickly from being sucked in a long time. His head was spinning and his heart was pounding in his chest.

“I have all the applicable information in my head. Last night I collated everything relevant and have a list of techniques I would like to employ on you whenever you are interested.” Sherlock sounded very satisfied and pleased with himself.

“You have a sex library in your head?” asked John. Of all the amazing, astounding, fantastic things about this man was his ability to remember anything he chose. John felt a burst of warmth inside and felt so lucky that he’d managed to find someone as incredible as Sherlock.

“Yes. It’s rather extensive as many cultures have long since written a great deal on the topic in manual form, I have several different translations stored and last night I retrieved everything that might be of interest to you. It’s rather a lot but I determined that oral sex would be a sufficient way to begin our exploration. I know you have a full itinerary planned for today.” John’s mental programme of museums to look at or markets to peruse went right out the window.

“Now that I found out that my boyfriend has a sexopedia in his head taking in the sights suddenly doesn’t seem as interesting.” said John. “Now I’m not sure I want to leave the bed at all ever.”

“We don’t have any lubricant.” _Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck_ no they didn’t. John had dropped off the case that had his old lubricant in it and though they had shopped he’d entirely forgotten to pick any up. Going out was inevitable.

John sighed but first he pulled Sherlock up in for a long hard kiss, “Then if you have no objection, I’d like to have a go with your list of oral techniques. I don’t have to wait till later for _everything_ , unless you want me to.” John delicately stroked his fingers over Sherlock quiescent penis and felt it swell a bit. Sherlock bit his lip and blushed, “You can say no if you want to Sherlock, I won’t mind, but I’d like to.” In answer Sherlock covered John’s hand with his and pressed down. John felt Sherlock’s cock harden a bit more and the detective’s eyes darkened with anticipation. John smiled. This was going to be interesting.

They rearranged themselves. Sherlock wasn’t shy about spreading his legs, simply looking curiously at John who couldn’t stop smiling. Sherlock really was amazing, anyone else would be falling apart with nerves at receiving their first blow job but the taller man look flushed but composed. John leaned in and kissed Sherlock, he wasn’t in a hurry. They had all the time in the world.

John looked at Sherlock. He found he liked the hard flat planes of Sherlock’s body, the almost marble quality of it. John kissed his way over Sherlock’s torso, placing a kiss on each mole and the faint smattering of chest hair that proved Sherlock was human and not some kind of celestial being because he really was quite lovely. John had always enjoyed the lush softness of a woman’s body, how the pliant flesh filled his hand, but running his palms over the almost buttery soft surface of Sherlock’s skin was delightful. When John sucked a kiss over Sherlock nipple he heard a gratifyingly startled gasp so he kissed the other one, rolling the quickly stiffening nub with his tongue and felt Sherlock’s hand press against the back of his head, a silent plea for more.

John reached down and felt Sherlock. He was entirely erect now, his cock jutting away from his belly. It jerked a bit when John wrapped his fingers around the shaft and gave a slow gentle pull. Sherlock began to breathe harder and John smiled again. Shifting down so he was sitting on his heels John bent his head and began.

The taste was a bit different that John had expected, saltier and stronger than he anticipated but he didn’t mind. Sherlock’s cock stretched his mouth open and it felt strange to have the blunt firm head of it stroke slowly over his tongue and upper palate. John forced himself to relax when it reached the back of his mouth, he wasn’t able to take much of Sherlock but now he knew his limits and began to expand his efforts. He laved Sherlock’s shaft with his tongue, spreading saliva and precum all over until he was slick and John’s hand worked him gently. John gently touched Sherlock’s testicles, the curls of hair around the base of his cock lightly furred the heavy sacs and John enjoyed the heat and weight of them. The sweet spicy scent of Sherlock grew stronger and John closed his eyes. Sherlock was thrusting a tiny bit but it felt good to have his cock push quickly into his mouth so John relaxed himself further and accepted it. His jaw was beginning to ache after a couple of minutes so he pulled off and began to use his hand more, lapping at Sherlock’s frenulum and mouthing the head, squeezing and twisting a bit until Sherlock’s hands were on the back of John’s head and gripping him hard. Sherlock was panting harshly now, whimpers built into each ragged gasp for air, “John! It’s happening!” he cried suddenly.

Sherlock’s head fell back and he gave a loud broken cry. John made a decision at the very last moment and covered Sherlock’s cock with his mouth, swallowing reflexively as Sherlock throbbed out one heavy jet of come after another until he was a shivering wreck on the bed, spent and moaning softly as he recovered. John sat up. He wasn’t sure if he’d really loved the taste of semen but he’d thoroughly enjoyed the way it felt to have Sherlock come in his mouth, and seeing Sherlock’s current condition only did his ego good. He’d done that, he’d reduced Sherlock Holmes into an unthinking mess of pure feeling. John lay down beside Sherlock and smirked at the ceiling.

John had almost dozed off again before Sherlock finally roused himself enough to roll closer, hugging John tight to him, “I can’t even describe how amazing that was John.” John’s smirk reappeared and he hugged Sherlock back. After several minutes Sherlock said, “I think I would like you to penetrate me. We should go find a chemist.”

John’s cock was still recovering from orgasm last night and then again this morning but it made a mighty effort to at least signify its willingness to participate later. “God, are you sure?” not about the getting up, John was pretty much willing to run naked to the closest chemist if Sherlock was serious.

“Very sure John, let’s get up.”

They took a quick shower because despite how much they enjoyed it personally they both felt walking around the city reeking of sex wasn’t probably the best impression to make. John’s stomach growled loudly too so Sherlock insisted they find someplace for breakfast first, “You get very irritable if you aren’t fed regularly. Come along John, stop pouting.”

John smiled some more because Sherlock literally fussed over him, making sure John was dressed warmly, and that they had everything they needed. He talked to the concierge and got a recommendation for a breakfast place, took John there and ordered him the biggest breakfast John could manage, not moving until John couldn’t eat another bite. When their tea was finished only then would Sherlock get up and allow John to walk him through the streets until they came across a chemist. It made the floor-clerk blush a bit but the young woman helped them locate lube as well as condoms, though Sherlock and John had a hissed argument over their necessity, “I know we’re both likely clean Sherlock but we are not taking any chances until we’re screened properly! It’s either condoms or separate rooms. You choose.” Sherlock glared and got two boxes and John rolled his eyes.

Buying the condoms had put Sherlock in a mood so instead of rushing back to their room for hours of energetic penetrative sex John ended up walking around the city with Sherlock by his side. Finally after an hour of almost complete silence John had to ask, “What’s wrong.”

Sherlock was silent for a long time, “I don’t like the fact that you’ve had lovers other than me though there is nothing I can do about it. I don’t like the fact that I used to be a junkie and because of that I was at risk and I might be putting you at risk though none of my screens up until now have shown any issue. I don’t like the fact that we aren’t home and are about to do this. Having said that I would also like to say I am very happy you have accepted me as your lover, and that you will undoubtedly use the skills you perfected on others to good effect on me, and even if I’m not the first person to engage in intimacy with you I am at least fairly sure I’m the first man you’ve been with and take consolation in that knowledge.”

John walked in silence for a few minutes, “Let’s go back to London then. A train leaves every two hours. We can repack and be on for early in the afternoon.”

Sherlock looked entirely surprised. “Are you sure John?”

John looked up at the tall man by his side, “Sherlock we have our whole lives to travel around and make memories everywhere but we’ll only have _one_ time to be our _first_ time together. If you want to be back at Baker Street I have no objection. I’m not a child, I can wait. So, do you want to go back to London with me?”

Sherlock stood there on the streets of Edinburgh, a crooked smile on his face as he gazed down at John in disbelief, “You’d do that for me?”

“Sherlock, you should probably just assume I’d do anything for you. That attitude has worked for you so far.” John smiled and took Sherlock’s hand, “Let’s get back to the room and pack. We’ll be back tonight.”

“I do love you John. You are the kindest, most selfless person I know.”

“You’re making me blush Sherlock, come on love, let’s go.” John smiled up at Sherlock and gripped his fingers tight, “Back to London.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit brief but I swear I will make it up to you with my super extra smutty sweaty next installment that will likely take two or three days to produce but only because I have inescapable obligations to tend to this weekend. I tried to escape, I did. I pulled the full Houdini but I guess I'm not that good.


	7. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their vacation abandoned John and Sherlock head back to Baker Street and home.

The trip back to London was quiet and filled with soft conversation and gentle touches. Through most of it John told Sherlock about how he had managed to make it through nearly three years of desolate loneliness and silenced Sherlock's apologies, “You did what you had to do Sherlock, I understand that now. I missed you, god I missed you, I was so angry for such a long time but I’ll never be angry about that, not ever again. You are so amazing Sherlock! The things you did…you did all of that for me and you suffered far worse than I did. I’m the one who’s sorry love. I’m sorry for how bad it was between us when you got back, I’m sorry for hiding how I felt all this time. If I’d been as brave as you none of this would have happened at all! If I’d been confident enough when we’d first met I wouldn’t have stopped flirting with you after you told me you were married to your work, I would have done everything I could have to make you happy. That’s all I want Sherlock, I just want you to be happy.”

Sherlock didn’t know what to say. He was purely astounded by John’s words; he still felt he didn’t deserve John’s devotion, “You’ve been the best part of my life John. While I can’t say I particularly enjoyed being away, or what happened earlier this week I’d have to admit that without those bleak times I might not be able to appreciate you properly. You are a very brave man John Watson. The odds are never too great for you to overcome; you have persevered and survived every instance that would have felled a lesser person. You are strong in more than body, you have honor that is beyond question. You automatically see the best in people when I only see the worst. Knowing you is the most illuminating experience I could ever have been gifted with and it was worth the price I paid to be here right now. Even your suffering is beautiful in its own terrible way; you only ever wish you could have done more when you have already done more than any living person I know. How endless is your willingness to give of yourself? You never ask for a thing in return, no matter your desire. How is it possible for someone as utterly magnificent as you to settle for a madman that none else can bear?”

John was smiling as he listened to Sherlock, “Is that really how you see me?” he was so touched. He’d had no idea that Sherlock held him in such high regard.

“Yes John, I regret that I have not always seen you with such clarity. I have been blinded by my own prejudices about emotions and so very many other things. I have been a fool John, you have been right in front of me this entire time, every part of me knew the truth of it but for my pride I refused to see. I have many regrets for the mistakes I have made. I want to promise to do better, I _will_ do better.”

“I don’t want you to change Sherlock, not really. I fell in love with the man you are. I guess if I really thought about it all I wanted was to know was that I mattered to you, the rest of our lives together is kind of perfect actually.” he took Sherlock’s hand and kissed it, “We live dangerously but as much as I want to protect you I never ever want to hold you back. I know the Work will come first again and again, I know things will challenge us and make us doubt. What I need you to know is that no matter what happens, how hurt we are in body or spirit, no matter the circumstance, I will always love you. If you can depend on nothing else you can depend on that.”

Sherlock thought about this for a long time and John just held his hand and let him. “I don’t want to hurt you again. I’m terrified of driving you away. I’m not like you John, I won’t survive you leaving me and I didn’t want you to know that but you should so I’m telling you. You do matter to me. You matter to me so much that I was ready to kill myself rather than live without you. I can’t even hesitantly imagine living without you, I can’t. My mind simply stops. I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t want to obligate you to remain simply because I’m a weak-spirited wretch who doesn’t want to face life unless his doctor is literally holding his hand. I don’t deserve you John Watson, not a bit, but I can’t give you up and I can never let you go.”

“Good luck trying to get rid of me now Sherlock! I’ve found the perfect man for me, someone crazy enough to let me get into fights and shoot things on a regular basis, someone so smart it fucking takes my breath away, it does you know, god I love you. I love you so much there is practically nothing you can do to make me leave.” John leaned closer and became serious, “You don’t ever get to take yourself out of this world Sherlock Holmes, _not ever_. Not even if you make me so mad I pack my bags and leave Baker Street all over again. I’ll get over being angry and we’ll work it out, we always do. You fucking _died_ for fuck’s sake and I took you back! You could do anything, absolutely anything, and I’d never stop loving you. Even if you set me aside and took a different lover, even if it destroyed me to see it I’d still love you.”

“If anything that just made me feel even less deserving of you John. How are you so good? Another lover? Unthinkable! I have met thousands of people in my life John and all of them have passed me by nearly faceless and indistinguishable from the other. You stand out; you alone are the one I noticed, the one I keep noticing. At the risk of sounding trite you are literally the only man for me. There will be no other, not ever, not anyone; _that_ I can guarantee.”

“We sound like one of Mrs. Hudson’s programmes.” said John, his eyes damp and red. His smile was warm and as big as it could get though and his fingers were squeezing Sherlock’s tightly.

“Well I’m very new at being romantic, I’m sure I’ll get better at it with some practice.” smiled Sherlock who was entranced with the look on John’s face which if anything grew even happier.

“Well you’re brilliant at it so far,” John leaned in and pressed a quick warm kiss to Sherlock’s mouth. He was very serious when he spoke, “It helps hear you say these things though Sherlock, our lives are going to be very different now I would imagine. We spent a lot of our time with each other avoiding things; it would be very easy to slip back into those old mindsets. We’ll have to watch out for each other, I don’t want you to ever feel that you can’t ask for what you want if you think there’s something you’re not getting. I don’t care what it is.”

“I will do my best to continue reassuring you but John, I will never stop loving you. Doing so is in integral part of my existence. I am unskilled at being demonstrative but I am certain you will guide me as necessary.” John was smiling again and that made Sherlock feel good inside. It was nice being able to love John openly. All the stress was gone and Sherlock looked forward to being home.

They arrived in London and simply went home where Sherlock ordered take-away for John. While they waited they changed into their pajamas gratefully after a pair of fast showers. While the doctor ate Sherlock unpacked all their things, reverently hanging John’s clothes, both old and new, back into his wardrobe where they belonged. John’s bedside drawer was once again stuffed with his motley collection of pens and mementos as well as the brand new bottle of lube and one of the boxes of condoms. Sherlock prudently put the other box beside his own bed and made a note to himself to acquire a second bottle of personal lubricant. Perhaps one day John would want to move his things again, but only as far as downstairs but that would be his decision and not Sherlock’s. The detective needed to see everything back as it once was and found great satisfaction in returning John’s room to its proper state. Finally he took the journal and laid it back in the drawer where John had kept it, stroking its leather cover gently before closing it away.

John was just making tea when Sherlock came back, making the detective sit and eat a small plate of food before going to the front room and just switching on the telly. Sherlock wasn’t sure how to proceed. They’d come all the way from Edinburgh to do something very specific but John didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get on with it and it was incredibly late in the day. Instead the doctor encouraged Sherlock to sit a bit closer than normal, tugging his arm until Sherlock was holding John to him. It was very pleasant and Sherlock enjoyed it a great deal. When the news was finally over John yawned, stretched, got up, and with a small smile just looked at Sherlock, “Ready?”

Sherlock was nervous suddenly. This felt like a big step, a very big step. He wanted it, yes he did, but the anxiety began to build and his brow furrowed just a touch. John noticed, “We can wait if you want Sherlock, there’s no rush. We’re not in a race.”

Sherlock felt a bit badly for feeling relief that John wasn’t going to just charge ahead but he didn’t want to just go to sleep! “Perhaps we can kiss?” he offered and John’s smile was like the sunrise.

“Brilliant.” he said and led Sherlock to his bedroom, “Thanks Sherlock.” said John appreciatively, admiring the strict precision with which everything had been restored. John was rigorous with his personal environment though generally he didn’t care how tidy the rest of the flat was, as long as they weren’t attracting flies. His bedroom however was always meticulous and Sherlock had even hung all his clothes in the order to which John preferred them, vests folded neatly in the dresser, as well as his pants and socks, the wardrobe filled with shirts and trousers, his jumpers stowed on the shelf. Sherlock had even fluffed up John’s down pillow and comforter and John smiled when he saw that Sherlock had put John’s old pillow on the bed as well, just in case two pillows were required.

Sherlock was pleasantly surprised to find that John simply wanted to stand there, his head tipped up so Sherlock could bend down, their mouths fitting together easily. It was comfortable and it felt nice to just gently press together, the thin fabric of their pajamas doing nothing to stop their body heat from mingling nicely. Sherlock also discovered that he had tugged John over until he sat down abruptly on the bed, unintentionally pulling the doctor onto his lap but John didn’t seem to mind. He kept Sherlock sitting there, merely rearranging himself so his behind was on Sherlock’s thighs and his knees were on either side of Sherlock’s hips, his feet hooked over the edge of the mattress. It was the perfect position because now Sherlock could tip _his_ head up to receive John’s kiss and he liked how it made his neck feel for some reason.

John’s body was so much warmer than Sherlock’s; the heavy press of his form was reassuring and gave Sherlock a sense of being stabilized. He also realized that his hands were entirely free in this position so he put them to use exploring John. John liked it very much and whispered naughty encouragements into Sherlock’s ear which made Sherlock blush but still follow the soldier’s suggestions. Sherlock very much enjoyed putting his hands on John’s arse and squeezing the flesh, and John seemed to enjoy it as well. Sherlock also liked the way John’s breath stuttered sometimes when Sherlock nipped at his neck or ear. It didn’t take long before kisses had turned into a panting snog session with both men urging the other to remove their tops so they could both touch more skin and press kisses to yet untasted skin.

Sherlock was on his back now, holding John’s hips tight to his by shoving his hands down John’s pants and rocking both of them together. They were both hard, Sherlock barely recalled it happening but it felt good if a bit raspy. Finally he pushed down the waistband of John’s pajama bottoms, spread his fingers wide and took hold again, rubbing and cupping John’s pert behind eagerly. John kissed Sherlock deeply before pulling away just a tiny bit, “Tell me what you want Sherlock.”

Sherlock pulled John back, “Would you touch me?” John’s hungry moan made Sherlock’s hips jerk a bit in response and in a flurry of movement both men got rid of their pajama bottoms and pants before kissing furiously for a moment before John pushed Sherlock back to lay against the pillow. The doctor didn’t hesitate, slowly running his fingers over Sherlock, meticulously covering every bit of Sherlock’s body. It drove him crazy.

John was enjoying arousing Sherlock. Once again he hadn’t intended to fan the flames so high but Sherlock was demanding and insistent, his unconscious responses to John’s caresses the purest, most unfeigned, and most natural reactions the soldier had ever seen in a lover. There was no artifice in Sherlock’s gasps and almost silent moans. He seemed surprised that John was able to draw pleasure from commonplace regions, his calf, his ribs, even his forearms, it didn’t matter. Wherever John kissed or stroked him became warm, Sherlock’s skin nearly tingling with anticipation of the next kiss or tender touch.

Sherlock was lost in a daze of sensual delight. John was clever, the combination of kisses and caresses to various regions all seemed carefully timed to make Sherlock eager to spread himself wider, to display himself wantonly. When John softly asked him to roll to his belly Sherlock did so with alacrity, almost kneeling as he unconsciously presented himself to John.

John was entirely unsure what he’d ever found attractive about anyone else in his past because right here in front of him was the most exquisite display he’d ever witnessed. Sherlock was long, pale, flushed, and entirely at John’s disposal to do with as the soldier saw fit. It was a heady experience. John leaned forward and kissed the middle of Sherlock’s back and loved it. Sherlock’s torso was lithe and narrow; his back arched a bit as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. John realized he never wanted to kiss skin unless it was alabaster and kitten soft, that each and every tiny mark on Sherlock’s body was John’s to love for the rest of his life if he wanted, and that every tremble and shuddering breath was only for him. When he kissed Sherlock John found that there was pleasure to be had while feeling the fine hairs that covered him, that the spicy masculine scent of Sherlock was dizzyingly arousing, and that seeing his lover look nearly lost with passion, lust-dazed and wordless, was the most rewarding feeling he’d ever had. He knew for a fact he was the only person out of the billions of people on the planet who would ever be able to say they pleasured Sherlock Holmes and it made John hungry to proceed.

John couldn’t help groaning when he filled his hands with Sherlock’s plentiful behind. “I want to use my mouth on you.” he said softly. He was kneeling behind Sherlock, bent over to bite and kiss the plush expanse.

Sherlock’s eyes flew wide. He understood what John wanted, “Analingus. You wish to prepare me for coitus.”

Sherlock wished he knew a softer way of speaking, something more romantic that clinical terms for something so intimate but John just growled, “Aren’t you a clever boy, yes love, that’s what I want.”

Sherlock absolutely loved the almost primal possessiveness in John’s voice. In answer Sherlock pushed himself up higher, pulling his knees closer together so his behind was even more blatantly displayed. Whatever John wanted was fine with him, “I want it too.” Oh he did, he really did.

John stuttered out another breath as he looked at Sherlock, brazenly spread, practically shoving his ass toward John’s cock. Sherlock’s skin had taken on a pinkish tinge, a full-body flush that seemed to be growing darker with each bite, each kiss. Sherlock’s cock hung heavy between his thighs, his testicles were full and ripe. John couldn’t stop himself so he leaned forward and teased them with his tongue. Sherlock groaned softly as John pressed and flicked his tongue higher and higher, massaging and exploring Sherlock cleft boldly. The soldier loved the firm press of Sherlock’s cheeks against his face, the muscle was firm yet so bountiful, and when John flicked the tip of his tongue over Sherlock’s furl he was treated to an unexpected squeeze when Sherlock tensed in surprise. John slid his hands over the expanse once again, using his thumbs to keep Sherlock parted so John could begin.

Sherlock couldn’t help categorizing and analyzing what was being done to him. John was using his mouth and tongue to kiss him in the filthiest of ways, teasing the exterior anal sphincter until Sherlock realized his body was willingly relaxing, and allowing the doctor’s tongue to delve a bit further. The pressure felt very strange, and the heat of John’s tongue was deliciously distracting as were the fingers which kept kneading and spreading Sherlock a bit as John took his time. The doctor’s touch was knowing and gentle so when his tongue left Sherlock’s body to be replaced by a very spit-slicked finger Sherlock forced himself to remain relaxed and let it happen.

It was so odd, so very odd. John’s finger was undeniably inside him, not even to the first knuckle but still, there was an intrusion and Sherlock was hyper-aware of the urge to expel it. John was making soothing sounds; his other hand stroking Sherlock’s hip but not ceasing his cautious push inward. Sherlock’s toes curled and he whimpered a bit. The sensation wasn’t painful but it was so different than anything Sherlock had experienced it was a bit overwhelming. All the kissing and teasing John had done prior to this had made the detective more aware of his flesh than he’d ever been in his life, even the medical exams he was sure to have had in his life bore no recollection of this type of feeling. Sherlock knew that it was because it was John, not some interchangeable doctor from an expensive private clinic; his love for his soldier had allowed Sherlock’s mind and body to finally integrate and function even better than ever.

John leaned forward slowly, kissing his way up Sherlock’s back as the tip of his finger moved slowly, making small circles as he encouraged Sherlock’s body to keep relaxing. A momentary cessation occurred when the doctor fished out the new bottle of lube. Sherlock heard the squeeze of the dispenser, felt John’s finger leave him for a moment but then the bottle landed on the bed beside Sherlock and he felt John’s finger return, this time cool with slick which he rubbed carefully into the detective before slipping a tiny bit inside him again, “Where am I Sherlock?” asked John softly.

“Inside me John.” said Sherlock, his voice quiet and his eyes closed. He wanted to remember everything perfectly.

“What is inside you?” John’s finger became a bit more insistent and Sherlock groaned.

“The distal phalange of your right hand has been inserted into my anus. It feels strange.” reported Sherlock, blindly reaching for the terms he knew.

John didn’t say anything but Sherlock felt him move and then there was more lube being dribbled onto him. It slid cool and wet but Sherlock enjoyed the _hotcold_ sensation, especially when John retracted his finger to slick it further and pushed in again, this time much deeper, “Now?”

Sherlock groaned, “First distal knuckle, beginning of intermediate phalanx! _John_!” John didn’t speak again for a couple of minutes, concentrating instead on working his finger in and out of Sherlock, twisting it a bit which cause a few almost-painful shocks but John slowly relaxed Sherlock enough that Sherlock gasped again when John pushed in, “P...p….proximal inter-phalangeal joint!”

“That’s right love, that’s so right.” John was biting and kissing Sherlock’s behind now as well, his finger working to loosen Sherlock slowly, “I’m going to use a second finger now.” John’s finger left Sherlock’s body once more and when it returned his index finger was joined by his middle finger and Sherlock groaned into the pillow as John repeated the process of invasion, slipping more and more inside Sherlock until the muscles were willingly loose and accepting. “A small treat and then one more finger.” husked the doctor.

John crooked his fingers a bit and slid inward. Sherlock’s groan was loud and startled. The shock of delicious heat that shot through him was almost too much, “John! That… that… was…the… the…” Sherlock couldn’t find the word right then but threw out, “ _Gland_ … oh!” Sherlock couldn’t focus on _words_ because John’s finger tips swirled with delicacy over exactly the right spot. Sherlock could feel his cock harden and felt that warm drip as precum began to leak onto the sheet below him.

Sherlock found he had a pillow hugged to his chest and his face buried in the sheets as he arched his back and welcomed John’s third finger. Each push, each stretch was better than the last, and occasionally John would crook his fingers again and brush over Sherlock’s prostate, making both of them groan deeply as Sherlock’s cock jumped and would leak a drop or two more. Time became meaningless, there was only the ever expanding push of John’s hand, making him open, getting him ready, so ready, oh god, John! “Please!” he begged finally, “Please John, please!”

John’s fingers pulled out slowly and Sherlock felt the cool air chill his skin now. John tore something open, a condom packet then Sherlock heard John groan a bit, heard the rude squelch of lube being squirted out and John groaned again, “Bear down.” he said and Sherlock’s eyes opened wide. It was happening.

John held himself carefully, pressing the head of his very neglected cock against the tempting star-burst of flesh, wanting to bury himself as deeply as he could as quickly as he could manage and it took every ounce of willpower in him to not do so. Instead he breathed carefully and used his other hand to spread Sherlock a bit before allowing himself to begin pushing inward. Both men exhaled roughly as their flesh met, Sherlock’s body resisting yet inviting, John’s body wanting and holding back. Together they breathed deep, pushing and pulling at the same time until the head of John’s cock finally managed to breach Sherlock. They paused and Sherlock found that he was terrified and exhilarated at the same time. This was really happening!

John ran his hands lovingly over Sherlock’s back and side, stroking him smoothly, gently calming him until Sherlock relaxed again. John began to rock his hips, keeping the motions slow and shallow, allowing himself to go deeper into Sherlock in tiny, almost frustrating, degrees. Sherlock was so tight, so hot, the slick lube allowed John to feel the smooth interior, and it made him groan loudly when Sherlock’s body clenched down spasmodically, “Too much!” said Sherlock suddenly, “Out!”

John pulled out slowly and Sherlock shivered, “Too much sensation, too many new things,” he muttered into the bedding, “Just…I need….”

“Okay love, come here, shh, come here.” John lay down and pulled Sherlock into his arms, holding the shaking man and let Sherlock’s mind deal with the overload of new data. His cock ached but John ignored it, Sherlock just needed a minute to collect himself and sure enough after a short time had passed the tall lean man was kissing John passionately, almost clawing at the doctor to come closer, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs deliberately. A last application of lube was applied as John knelt in front of Sherlock and pushed in once more.

Sherlock pulled John to his chest as soon as he could, their bodies sliding together as John pushed slowly deeper and deeper. Sherlock liked the weight of John on him, and the feel of John entering him was delicious now that it wasn’t so startling. Sherlock pulled his knees up just as John pushed forward and suddenly the doctor was flush against Sherlock’s body, buried deeply and almost throbbing inside him, “John!”

The soldier was on his knees, his hips bucking a tiny bit as he adjusted his position to hold Sherlock’s legs wide, his hands braced on the back of Sherlock’s thighs. “Ready?” Sherlock nodded, he was ready, he needed John to move and move now. John did.

The first full thrust was slow and deep as John pulled out nearly completely and sank back in. He kept it slow for a long time, simply moving inside Sherlock until it wasn’t a fight anymore and John was able to go a bit faster, twisting his hips once in a while before finally angling himself to thrust just right and Sherlock shouted, “Oh god!” That was utter bliss!

“Fuck aren’t you just the sweetest piece of eye-candy ever,” said John hotly, “Just look at you, god you’re gorgeous, you know that?” Sherlock felt his cock twitch as John’s eyes raked over him, they were dark with lust, his skin already beaded with sweat as his hips kept thrusting. John was looking at Sherlock like he’d never seen him before, like he’d been given a vision, and was exultant. The coarseness of his words only words only excited the detective further, “I like kissing that mouth of yours, your lips are sweet, like sugar.” John kissed Sherlock briefly, “I love your arms and legs, wrap those around me beautiful, I want you feel all of you.” Oh god John! Sherlock did as he was asked and John groaned appreciatively, his thrusts becoming slightly rougher, “Yeah, that’s nice, I like feeling your cock against my belly, you’re so hard and you’re just _dripping_.” John kissed Sherlock hard and swiftly, “Do you think you can come like this? Do you want me to touch you?” Sherlock nodded then shook his head. He couldn’t bear to have a hand on his cock right now; the slide of John’s abdomen was more than enough. Sherlock could feel his balls beginning to tighten and draw up, and recognized that he was close already, “I know love, I know, you’re on the edge already aren’t you? You want to come? Shall I make you come?”

Sherlock nodded hard and clutched at John even more, god he wanted it, he wanted it desperately. John began to undulate a bit, his cock now make Sherlock’s insides feel almost liquid with the heat that pooled, and the tension he hadn’t realized was building in his hips grew bittersweet. Sherlock was whimpering over and over again now, his head back and his body locked in anticipation. John was almost grunting now as he thrust harder and faster, their flesh smacking together wetly. Sherlock closed his eyes, and drew a sharp breath before exhaling brokenly, unable to let another sound fly as every nerve in his body sparked simultaneously and he off-lined entirely, whiting out in an explosion of pure rapture that made the entire world disappear until only John was there. Sherlock clenched down and gloried in the fullness that magnified his pleasure exponentially and couldn’t stop the way he raked at John’s back with his finger-tips, or how he bit his own lower lip so hard it nearly bled. John was thrusting deeply, carefully allowing Sherlock to ride the wave out for as long as possible.

Sherlock detached from John, his arms and legs falling away as his body went lax with post-orgasmic satiation. John moaned and began to fuck him hard, sometimes shallowly, but mostly deep hard thrusts that got faster until John finally shoved himself as deep as he could and groaned long and deeply as he came. A tiny logical part of Sherlock’s brain made a tiny note to get to the clinic as soon as possible to get screened so John could fuck him properly. Sherlock wanted John to come in him, wanted that bit of John inside him. He wanted John forever and ever. He didn’t say a word, he couldn’t. Nothing worked anymore, his entire body was nearly singing with ecstasy still, his brain flooded with endorphins. Very distantly he could hear John almost crooning and felt a _warmwet_ cloth being rubbed over his torso and between his legs. The duvet was pulled up and Sherlock curled over toward John the second he got into bed. Sherlock still couldn’t think, there was only feeling right now, the desire to be held and loved. Draping his arm and leg over John Sherlock nestled close and fell contentedly to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wrapping this up with one final chapter which is mostly ready so hopefully you won't have to wait quite as long for the last bit. Lots of love!


	8. Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home at last both John and Sherlock begin things anew.

[Blargsberries - Sherlock-and-John-sofa](http://blargberries.deviantart.com/art/Commiss-Sherlock-and-John-sofa-369719153)

 

 

 

The next morning Sherlock woke up feeling a bit stiff but not in agony as he expected. It wasn’t until he tried to use the bathroom that he felt any sort of regret because he needed to have a hot bath right after and refused to get out until the paracetamols John gave him kicked in. John let him change the water one time then made him get out to eat breakfast before stretching Sherlock out onto the bed and giving him a rubdown that seemed to take care of most, but not all, of the awkwardness.

John called Mycroft and thanked him for the use of his credit card then handed his mobile to Sherlock who also thanked Mycroft with actual sincerity for helping him go to John. There was a lot of silence and in some confusion Sherlock handed the mobile back to John, “He’s fine. He means it Mycroft. No he’s not on drugs. That’s none of your business but yes. Listen, he’s making an effort and I….fine…thanks again Mycroft.” John hung up the mobile, “I think you gave him a bit of a shock there.”

“I’m sure thanks from me was the last thing my brother expected.” said Sherlock. He sighed; he’d spent so long pushing Mycroft away that it would take some time to convince his brother that he was a changed man. This entire week had been a revelation for the scientist and he had amends to make.

John didn’t see it that way, “You coped with things in a way that made sense to you, you can’t change what’s already happened. You don’t have to fix everything in a single day Sherlock, that’s not how it works. I don’t expect you to be a radically different person just because we’re going out now.”

“Perhaps not at once John but you can’t deny there are many areas of my life that need improving.” Small things but they were things that would mean something to John; things like letting the doctor get some proper rest when he needed it and not making ridiculous demands just to get attention. He _had_ John’s attention now, all of it. He could let go of his childish games. Sherlock wouldn’t keep making the same errors that had frayed his lover’s nerves so badly in the past. To potentially lose John because Sherlock couldn’t manage things like remembering his manners in public, or worse, something simple like making sure there was milk for the doctor’s tea, well that was insupportable. He was a grown man; he could discipline himself when necessary.

Their relationship now thoroughly consummated Sherlock and John proceeded to work out all the kinks that threatened to form by way of a series of very malleable rules that changed over time. John got his job at Bart’s back after Sherlock spoke to the administrator, even though it was Sarah Sawyer and John’s ex-girlfriend. She was very understanding and after making her promise to not tell John (unless he asked because Sherlock didn’t want to lie to the soldier but John had his pride) that the detective had confessed to her Sarah phoned the doctor up and told him there had been a paper-work glitch and his resignation had not been approved so he was accidentally back on the roster for the month. John was back to work a week later and very happy. In the weeks that followed messages were sent back and forth between the lovers, a list was eventually produced, and Sherlock insisted on keeping the comments attached to each one. It was kept on both their laptops and updated as required.

** The Rules **

**1) Never flirt with suspects (even if it’s just pretend) while on a case no matter how quickly you solved it after.**

Sherlock: _It was a woman John. How could you possibly think I would be interested in a woman? SH_

John: _I don’t care what gender the person is Sherlock. No more flirting. JHW_

It didn’t take long for Sherlock to discover that the doctor was delightfully possessive of the detective. John didn’t like it when people flirted with the taller man, Sherlock had never paid it any mind before but now that he had John’s displeased frown to gauge by he saw that quite a large percentage of people seemed to find him very attractive, at least until Sherlock opened his mouth, but for a case Sherlock was willing to pretend a return of interest, well, he used to be. He never lost the small thrill he felt when John would step in and do something, even if it was something simple like holding Sherlock’s hand, just to make it clear to whomever that Sherlock was very, very spoken for. He never flirted again, at least, not with anyone who wasn’t John.

**2) When insisting that you ‘need some air’ don’t take it as read that your boyfriend understands this to mean you’ve bunked over at Stamford’s place on his sofa until your temper cools, otherwise you are responsible for Mycroft’s people arresting your friend for kidnapping before bringing you back to Baker Street. Send a text.**

John: _You called every female on my mobile and told them to never speak to me again! One of them was my cousin! JHW_

Sherlock: _If you insist on keeping your old girlfriends as associates then I have no choice but to defend my territory in any way necessary. Label your relatives.SH_

John: _Git. JHW_

John: _I love you. JHW_

Sherlock: _I love you too. I deleted all your non-work related contacts except for Mrs. Hudson. SH_

Stamford had actually been thrilled to be arrested and held in a warehouse, the cloak and dagger experience was the highlight of his year. Stamford was a good friend of John’s and was the person responsible for introducing them so after John finished shouting at Sherlock they went right out and had him released from custody.

Sherlock was positive John would never be with another _man_ for the rest of his days but _women_ had charms the detective could never hope to offer, charms that the doctor had spent a considerable amount of his life enjoying. Logic had nothing to do with the thoroughness with which Sherlock removed any trace of old lovers from John’s few things. John half-heartedly complained but his smile was just a little too approving for Sherlock to feel badly about his actions. John was a very polite man and would never bring himself to cull his mobile of numbers he’d been given because that would be rude so Sherlock had ruthlessly done it for him and both of them were happier for it.

**3) ~~Biological Samples that do not fit in the LEFT vegetable crisper must be returned to the morgue or wherever it is you got them. Anything else must be properly stored or be discarded without notice.~~ *Amended***

Sherlock: _Don’t be unreasonable John. I need all four of those left arms intact! There’s no way they’ll all fit into a single crisper. SH_

John: _Then leave them at the morgue and stop removing people’s limbs! You didn’t even cover that last one! It leaked onto the fresh veg! JHW_

Sherlock: _I just ordered a mini-fridge to use instead. Now you can reach the top shelf. SH_

John: _I don’t know if I want to punch you in the face or kiss you. JHW_

Sherlock: _I vote for more kissing. I can meet you at the flat after work; you’ll need to sign for the delivery. I used your credit card. SH_

John: _Goddammit Sherlock! JHW_

John: _The mini-fridge is a good idea though. I love you. JHW_

Sherlock: _I love you too. I will expense The Yard for the unit. It’s the least they can do. SH_

John: _You really are a genius. JHW_

The smaller fridge became their food fridge, they never kept much in and they needed the room for Sherlock’s experiments; some body parts were quite big and one time they needed to store a small anaconda (an extremely dead anaconda because John wouldn’t go near it until Sherlock took its head off even though it had been killed and partially eaten) which was still quite large, in the much older and well-broken in larger fridge. John organized a regular return system with the morgue which Sherlock complained about but only because he was too lazy to make the return trips on his own. John made him do it anyway. The rule was eventually amended:

**3) Sherlock’s Fridge of Horrors must be cleaned and disinfected at least once a week.**

Sherlock: _You do it.SH_

John: _That’s your rotten mess, you do it. JHW_

Sherlock: _It doesn’t bother me it only bothers you. SH_

John: _In fact it does bother you which is why you are going to clean it out before I get home or I’m going out for drinks with Greg and Mike without you. JHW_

Sherlock: _I’ll clean it every Saturday. SH_

John: _Deal. JHW_

  **4) At no point is it acceptable for either boyfriend to have lunch with an ex-lover on their own no matter if it was a staff birthday party.**

John: _She’s married now Sherlock! Her husband was right beside her the entire time. I only went because there was free cake. JHW_

Sherlock: _Are you trying to tell me you’re seeing Mycroft behind my back? SH_

John: _I think I’m going to have nightmares tonight because of the image you just forced into my head. No. I just wanted cake. It was one of those cream and fruit ones. JHW_

Sherlock: _The rule stays. SH_

John: _Fine. JHW_

John not-so-secretly enjoyed Sherlock’s jealousy because both of them knew there was absolutely no cause and John complaining about it to his friends made Sherlock strangely happy. Still the soldier never liked making Sherlock feel anxious or threatened, so even though it meant Sherlock had to socialize more than he cared to, John took him to every event the doctor was invited to and Sherlock never protested. The relationship between Mycroft and Sherlock was improving, though insulting each other seemed to be a permanent fixture of their ability to speak to one another, still, Sherlock learned to say thank you and Mycroft eventually got over the shock of it.

**5) All curtains must be drawn closed and the door locked if one or possibly both boyfriends are walking around the flat nude. Double-checking the door-lock is mandatory.**

Sherlock: _Mrs. Hudson used to be married. She’s seen it all before. SH_

John: _Well she’s certainly seen it all now! You could have told me she was there Sherlock. JHW_

Sherlock: _I will make a point of informing you should the situation ever occur again. SH_

John: _Just remember to lock the door from now on. JHW_

Sherlock: _Very well John. I love you. SH_

Sherlock had taken to John’s suggestion about free-range nudity in the flat instantly, now peeling out of his clothes the second they were alone. Unfortunately one of his many bad habits was never locking the flat door, he barely shut the door most of the time, and Mrs. Hudson had over the years become accustomed to popping by with fresh baked treats, or left-overs for dinner, or to hoover. John didn’t normally go naked but of course _the one day_ he decided it would be alright he’d walked into the kitchen completely starkers and accidentally given Mrs. Hudson a clear view of what Sherlock had been enjoying. Sherlock had merely shrugged as Mrs. Hudson fled in one direction and the doctor in another. John almost died of embarrassment and refused to go naked in the flat for ages after.

**6) Every second Sunday is Boyfriend Day. Keep the day free, cases not included.**

John: _I’m fine with that_.

He was. Every two weeks without fail they would spend the entire day with one another just running around London looking at things, enjoying new experiences, and having a good time together even if it was just sharing a good long soak in the tub. If it happened that they were working a case on Boyfriend Day then Sherlock would concede enough to at least take a meal with John instead of foregoing food entirely. John felt that it was more than fair. There were other nights when they did special things with each other but Boyfriend Day was a huge success when it came to working on their relationship together. It gave them a tiny bit of structure to build their ever-increasing rapport around, and even if the name was a bit juvenile both men liked it because they were both very proud to have gained the other, and often argued over who benefited more from their shared company.

**7) It is not mandatory to provide sex to your boyfriend if you’re not in the mood. Be honest.**

John: _I’m sorry. JHW_

Sherlock: _You don’t have to apologize, it was my fault.SH_

John: _I feel terrible. JHW_

Sherlock: _You shouldn’t. I did it, not you.SH_

John: _Still. JHW_

Sherlock: _I’m the detective John, I should have recognized that you were tired and stressed from work. I’m the one who is sorry for being too pushy. SH_

John: _I shouldn’t have yelled at you. JHW_

Sherlock: _I should have listened when you asked me to stop the first time. I’m very sorry about that John. That was Not Good of me. SH_

John: _I should have just told you I wasn’t in the mood instead of letting it get so bad. I’m sorry. I love you. JHW_

Sherlock _: I love you too. Come home. SH_

Like many who were new to physical love Sherlock had become nearly insatiable, and John was normally very indulgent of the younger man’s desires. Many a night saw Sherlock shagged nearly unconscious, a very satisfied doctor by his side. Working their way through Sherlock’s mental checklist of positions and techniques had been very rewarding and fulfilling for both of them, but as with all things rough spots were bound to occur. John’s libido had been tempered with time and experience, and after a twelve-hour day he had not been prepared to be almost molested at the door, resulting in an unintentionally harsh rejection, a quickly escalating argument, several hurtful words, and John storming out to get some air once again. Once Sherlock realized that the doctor had just had a very bad day and needed some time to decompress, he’d felt both awkward and embarrassed about his aggressive demands for attention of an intimate nature, and the unbecoming things he’d said to John afterward. The make-up cuddles were filled with heartfelt mutual apologies and both men promised themselves to try harder.

**8) We are not obligated to work for The Yard.**

Sherlock: _Thank you John._

John: _You never need to thank me for that Sherlock. I’m only too happy to help._

Rancour between Sherlock and various people at the Yard had always existed but there were a staunch handful that seemed to take perverse joy in tormenting the detective. Name calling had been reduced to a few muttered insults but occasionally the acrimony would flare into hard words. Normally Sherlock and John only worked for Lestrade and his team but occasionally they took cases for Dimmock or one of the other DI’s. John had been delayed arriving on scene one day because he was coming from a shift he’d just finished but he got there just in time to hear a Yarder make a very unflattering comment regarding Sherlock and the very faint love-bite that could be seen peeking from his high collar. John had stalked over and pinned the man with a flat hard stare and demanded that he repeat his insult clearly so John could hear it face to face. Some fast talking on Lestrade’s part had prevented assault charges being laid and later on Sherlock had kissed the bloody bruises on John’s knuckles before tenderly wrapping them up to heal.

After that calls to the Yard were infrequent but it didn’t matter, John’s blog produced more work for them than they could handle so one shift at a time John pared back his schedule at St. Bart’s until he was working nearly full time with Sherlock, both men very content with the arrangement. The Work improved as well now that they had openly declared themselves and not wasting time on forlorn looks and lonely sighs. Sherlock’s fame grew once more but this time John’s grew right along with it.

Those who knew Sherlock best were amazed and astounded in the changes in the detective. He was still acerbic and sarcastic, aggressively intelligent and deeply seeing, but now he was also intuitive and considerate, sometimes even a little bit selfless, especially when it came to making John happy. When Molly received the various returns organized by John Sherlock always spent a few minutes pleasantly chatting with the pathologist, asking after her cat, her love-life, and just checking to make sure she was doing alright. Molly was flustered at first before she realized Sherlock was attempting to be her friend properly, so with a few helpful words from John both of them figured it out.

Mrs. Hudson received most of the benefit from John and Sherlock finally admitting they loved one another. They’d already been extremely fond of their landlady but now that they were together their affection blossomed so that a bit of time every week was dedicated to taking tea with her in her flat and solving her building issues. John was amazing with a hammer and saw, and Sherlock had his own small lab in the kitchen, so between the two of them one section of 221 B Baker Street at a time was lovingly restored mold-free.

Stamford once again played unintentional cupid when he invited Sherlock to a birthday party, and since Mycroft and Greg happened to be with Sherlock at the time, Stamford invited them too, “John will be very put out if you say no Mycroft. Mike is his good friend. Lestrade….Greg, John is your friend too, you can’t back out.” Sherlock was firm, Mike was magic, and at the birthday party two weeks later it seemed the Mycroft and Greg were finally willing to admit they were attracted to the other. Sherlock took his brother aside, “It’s worth it brother, try not to fight it.” Mycroft looked down at Sherlock, for once looking nervous but he nodded and returned to Lestrade’s side. Before the party ended Mycroft had arranged a proper date with Greg and both men left smiling happily. Mike looked pleased with himself and gave Sherlock an extra piece of cake.

After a year of being in an openly loving safe honest relationship Sherlock began to think of other years in front of them, years filled with danger and trouble, good times and old friends. John’s things had wandered into Sherlock’s bedroom one item at a time, they slept in Sherlock’s bed most nights, and it was exactly what Sherlock wanted. The upstairs bedroom was repurposed as an office to store all their case related props and files. The only thing Sherlock insisted upon after the last of John’s possessions relocated was where John’s luggage lived. It didn’t really belong in their bedroom but Sherlock hung John’s duffel on the back of the bedroom door, handy if John ever felt it was time to move along, and a reminder to Sherlock of the price he would pay for being a fool. John didn’t like it but Sherlock felt it was best but John argued that there had to be a better way. After some consideration Sherlock decided he needed some further input from John regarding the state of things.

 

Sherlock: [www.will-you-marry-me.SH](http://www.will-you-marry-me.sh/)

 

John: [www.yes.JHW](http://www.yes.jhw/)

 

In the months and years that followed their Rules changed a bit here and there, and their calendar became full with significant days like Husband Day which was celebrated once a year on their anniversary, and Boyfriend Day which was still every two weeks and kept things fresh. Apart from their own birthdays they celebrated Mrs. Hudson’s, Mycroft’s, Greg’s, Molly’s, sent Anthea a gift every twelve months or so because no one knew anything for certain about her, and made sure Mike received a huge box of chocolates each year on the date of their initial introduction.

The journal was still a part of their lives. John still recorded things in it that were significant to him and sometimes he wrote small notes to Sherlock about things he couldn’t speak of out loud, his nightmares about the war, things he had done, things that had been done to him. Sherlock read every word and slowly with each small sharing John’s nightmares decreased. Regardless of his progress both men slept best when Sherlock was wrapped tight around John, holding him close so he couldn’t get away, anchoring John so he knew he was safe. Their love for one another only grew and grew and in time the journal became less about hurt and more about the healing. Sherlock kept every love-letter John wrote him, reading them over and over again, never ceasing his thankfulness that he had managed to bumble his way through everything to secure John by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a wonderful journey to take and once again I thank everyone who contributed their energy to this fic. I'm taking a day or two but I will be post the first chapter of a new fic on Halloween so yay!
> 
> Ravenwolf36 - thank you so much all over again, you are too generous with your time and praise

**Author's Note:**

> I do enjoy comments a lot. I'm like one of those coin operated rides, kudos and comments keep me writing.


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